When Harry Met Tony
by FoolofaTook17
Summary: Okay, so, I dunno if any of you guys have ever driven while at gunpoint, but it’s not an experience I’d recommend.
1. Harry

I don't own _Kiss Kiss Bang Bang_, even though that'd be fantastic. Any other characters you recognize, I don't own, either. This story has officially been disclaimed.

And on a more random note, the song I listened to while writing most of this was "Renegades of Funk," by Rage Against the Machine. I'm not sure if it really has anything to do with the story, or if it'll be enhanced by the song or something, but it's pretty awesome. I figured I'd just give it a shout-out, as well.

* * *

I don't really know how to start this. I mean, it's not like it's too out of the ordinary compared to everything else we've gone to. The only real thing that's different is that Perry decided to be a little shit and leave without me. So now I'm stuck at this party by myself, all because Perry "had a case." That's his excuse for everything, no matter what.

_Oh, Harry, your dad died? The funeral's **when**? Oh, damn it, I've got a case that day. Sorry, pal._

_How the hell did you end up in the hospital, dipshit? Am I gonna visit you? Uh, no. I've gotta take over the case that **you** just fucked up. I'll send you…flowers or something._

I roll my eyes and try to find the car Perry left for me. I don't see why we couldn't have taken two goddamn cars, especially if he already had his plans for tonight, but _no_, spring it on Harry ten seconds before you leave, Perry. Nice. He says it's supposed to blend in, which is basically another way of saying it's a piece of shit. Buy hey, I'm not compl—okay, maybe I am.

The car's a black Toyota, definitely with its fair share of miles. He had it parked under a tree, which just creeps me the hell out. I mean seriously, who the hell wants to voluntarily drive in a car parked under a sketchy tree?

I jerk open the door and pull the keys out of my pocket. I feel like someone seriously just punched me in the face for no apparent reason, but that might just be the drugs talking again. Yay, Demerol! As I shift the car into reverse and then drive, I have the sudden urge to shoot Perry for having an actual job. He's leaving me alone too much; at least earlier he used to drag me along. That was way more interesting than this shit I've got now. My mental rant against Perry freezes as I realize that I wouldn't have an in to all these fancy parties with free food and shit, so I withdraw my shooting wish and/or thoughts.

Suddenly, I can feel a gun pressed against the back of my head. I bite my lip as I glance into the rear view mirror and see three guys in the backseat. How I didn't notice them earlier, I have no idea.

"_Fuck _me," I mutter.

"Not interested," one of them answers. "Keep driving, pal."

Okay, so, I dunno if any of you guys have ever driven while at gunpoint, but it's not an experience I'd recommend. While I'm driving, one of the guys sprawls out, almost kicks me in the face, and eventually ends up in the front seat next to me.

"How're you doing, Lockhart?"

"Could be better." I wonder how he knows my name, but now doesn't seem to be a good time to ask questions.

He chuckles. "Just relax, kid. We're not in your car, we don't have guns, you're just driving home…" He tries to make his voice sound calm and dreamy.

"Uh, bullshit." I call him on it. As I do so, the guy behind me smacks the gun against my skull. "_Je-sus_!"

"Take this right."

I take that right.

"Can I, uh, see if there are any tissues in my pocket?"

"Why?"

Why? Come on. "I have a cold." I fake a sniff and try to make my coughing sound disgusting, like it's filled with shit this bastard doesn't want on him.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. I'm giving you ten seconds."

I drop one hand from the wheel and dig into my pocket, my fingers forcing my cell phone open. Perry's basically the only person I've called for the past few months—there are a few Harmonies thrown in there, but who's counting?—so I hit SEND and wait.

"Nothing," I tell him when my hand comes up tissue-less.

"Boo hoo for you."

Okay, movie buffs. Remember the whole "Finger on the nose, finger pointed at me" thing Perry pulled during the good old Christmas season? This guy's "Boo hoo for you" might have just surpassed Perry's move on the gayness scale, according to your one and only narrator, Harry Lockhart.

I can hear mumbling in the backseat, and I'm praying that Perry's listening and not being an ass by hanging up right away.

"So, fellas." I make my voice obnoxiously loud so Perry can hear. "Where we headed?"

"It's Van Shrike, not Van Winkle, dipshit," one of them snaps at the other.

"Wait, what?" I ask. "Van Shrike?"

A tiny voice goes off in my pocket. I fidget around to try and muffle it even more.

"Shut up," the guy in the passenger seat tells me.

"Just asking," I answer, acting insulted. I've gotten damn good at that, if I do say so myself. "Is that where we're going? To _Perry Van Shrike's house_?" Catch the emphasis, please, Perry.

"Why the hell would we go there?"

"_I _have no idea. _You _guys are supposed to have a handle on things."

"Shut up, Mr. Lockhart." Ooh, courtesy. Hot damn.

I can hear a gasp from behind me, and my stomach sinks. "His phone!" he yelps. "His phone is sticking out of his fucking pocket!"

This causes quite the uproar; I'm smacked in the head again, and before I know it, the guy in the passenger seat is lunging across me, trying to get at my pocket.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I yell, hoping Perry's hung up and left the house—or something of the sort—by now. "What the hell are you doing?" I swerve and veer toward a telephone pole while trying to keep him away from my pants.

His eyes connect with mine and he gives me a cold stare. "Pull over," he growls.

Needless to say—but for some reason I'm saying it anyway—I pull over. I'm expecting, oh, I don't know, maybe another smack by that guy's gun or something, and am prepared to make a seating change when the guy in the passenger seat gets out and walks toward my side of the car, but what actually happens is the last thing I was expecting. That other guy in the back who called Van Shrike, Van Winkle, he grabs me by the shoulders and jerks me backward. On impulse, I start to fight him, but this guy is literally steroid-driven, and he's got me in the backseat before I can blink. I make an attempt to pull myself free, just to say that I did, but he pulls me back and pins my arms to my sides, his free hand clamped over my mouth.

The guy in the front seat grabbed my phone sometime in the last minute, and is now searching through it. "You little fucker," he mutters, his face illuminated by the screen. I stare at him, wondering at the same time if it would have any effect on the guy holding me if I bit his palm. That's probably just asking to be knocked out, so I decide against it.

"Did he call anyone?" the guy with the gun asks, eyeing my warily. Like I'm gonna attack you now, dude; I can barely breathe.

"I don't know." I can feel my jaw drop under the guy's hand. How the hell can he not tell?

"He must have," the guy holding me insists. He twists me around to face him. "Did you call anybody?" I can't believe this.

"No, he did." The driving guy's voice is low and upset. "The little prick did." The guy with the gun immediately presses his weapon of choice against the side of my head, and we're driving again.

"We can't panic," the driver tells his pals. "We've got him, we're leaving, there's no way he can get away. So just, screw his cell phone calls." He turns around and faces me. "Nice try, kid." I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and it's tough, trust me.

"Who's next?" gun guy wants to know.

The guy holding me stares at him. "You think I can check right now?"

I wouldn't mind.

"I've got my hands full here, you dumb shit."

Oh, thanks.

He kicks the papers gun guy's way with a sullen, "Look it up yourself."

The papers shuffle near my ear, and I try to read what's on them. It sucks that my peripheral vision has gone to hell as of right now.

"Stark."

* * *

a/n: Okay, as of right now, this is a _Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang_/_Iron Man_ crossover. Woot! I don't know why I decided on this, I think the idea of one RDJ character meeting another was just too interesting/cool for me to resist. So, apologies if it's kind of weird/bad. Just seeing if it'll work out. So, feedback's more than welcome :). Thanks for reading!


	2. Tony

I don't own _Kiss Kiss Bang Bang_, even though that'd be fantastic. Any other characters you recognize, I don't own, either. This story has officially been disclaimed. Also, no owning of _Iron Man_, either.

Thanks to j.v. hearts13 for reviewing! :)

* * *

Pepper's trailing me around my workshop like a lovesick puppy, barking out my schedule every few seconds. I can't stand this, but I guess it's what I pay her for. At least, according to her it is.

"The MIT commencement speech—"

"Is next weekend," I finish, rolling my eyes. "Please, Potts, are you gonna be hassling me—"

"It's tonight." I stare at her as she pulls off an eye roll of her own. She taps her pen against a fancy new clipboard with her name inscribed on the bottom in gold lettering. A bit tacky for my taste, but, as she's reminded me before, "You're not me, Mr. Stark."

I can get myself my own clipboard, and it'll be guaranteed badass.

She shrugs and smirks at my dropped jaw. "If you had even bothered to check your schedule," she chides, "you probably would've been ready for this."

"What time is it," I begin, letting my wrench drop to the floor with a clang. Pepper opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, I finish my sentence. "JARVIS?" She glares at me and I grin deviously at her. She can't resist my grins; it's a bad thing to mention your weaknesses.

"Five twenty-three, sir."

"Pepper," I say, putting my hands in front of me like I'm praying, "what time is the MIT speech?"

"Seven."

"And how long would it take to get to MIT?"

"If you left right now?" she asks.

"Eh…in about three minutes," I decide, tilting my hand slightly.

"You don't have enough time," she tells me simply.

My eyes lock with hers. "No?"

She shakes her head, then watches as my eyes travel back to the suit. She sighs. "Tony, you're not taking that. Have you even finished fixing it yet?"

"It's close enough," I answer absentmindedly, running my hand across it. "Isn't it, JARVIS?"

Pepper turns to JARVIS before he can answer. "If you give him permission to do this, JARVIS, I'll give you a virus," she threatens lamely. She never was much for punishments. Like I need JARVIS' permission, anyway.

"What, AIDS?" I ask with a smirk. Pepper looks like she wants to slap me, but takes her anger out on her pen top instead, clicking it violently, over and over. Maybe pretending that it's my head.

"I believe I contracted that from you, sir," JARVIS deadpans.

Pepper bursts into laughter as I stare at my bitch of a robot, startled. "JARVIS!" I yelp.

"See if Rhodey can get your plane ready," she instructs, still trying to suppress her laughter.

"Isn't that your job, Miss Potts?" I ask, digging my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing Rhodey's number.

"I'm on break, Mr. Stark."

"Are you, now?"

"Yes."

"He's not answering."

Pepper shrugs. "I guess you owe MIT some money, then."

I chuckle. "Don't be ridiculous, Potts. I can fly the damn plane."

I can feel her eyes on me, and I meet them hopefully.

"I don't want to be in a plane you're flying, Tony," she tells me simply.

"Why?" I pout, stamping my foot like a five-year-old about to have a tantrum. Apparently I do this often, and it leaves a bad impression on most people. Pepper has told me to stop countless times, but it's just habit, so everyone will have to live with it.

"It's not safe. JARVIS, see if you can find another off-duty pilot."

"We're gonna be late if we wait any longer," I interject, playing with Pepper's phobia of tardiness.

She stiffens noticeably and sighs. "JARVIS, scratch that. Just watch the news for any stories on plane crashes, please. Let's go, Mr. Stark."

My eyes brighten. "Yeah?"

"Before I change my mind." She drops her clipboard onto a nearby table and treks up the stairs. I wait until she's gone before I congratulate myself with a celebratory fist pump. No doubt she'd be pissed off if I did that in front of her.

"When's the last time you flew a plane, Mr. Stark?"

I shrug. "Why?" I pause, then answer for her. "Not as bad as you thought it'd be, is it, Miss Potts?"

She doesn't answer, which I take as a positive response. "What do we have for time?"

"Six oh two."

"Where are we now?"

"Nowhere close to MIT."

"Okay, then." I accelerate the plane suddenly, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Pepper clutch the sides of her seat. "There aren't any speed limits up here!" I yelp. "It's great!"

"Tony…" she falters. "Pretend that there are, please."

A thought pops into my head as I slow down—just slightly, just for Pepper—and I can't help but feel one of those little twangs of nervousness. "Where am I supposed to land this?"

Pepper stares at me warily. "Give me my purse." I toss it back to her and she pulls out her cell phone. She mutters a few things to the person on the other line and hangs up quickly. "Logan Airport."

"Uh, how the hell am I supposed to know where that is?"

Pepper looks at me, feigning shock. "What, you mean you can't see the neon signs pointing to it?"

"Actually, no."

"We'll be able to see it when the time comes," she assures me.

"I'm quoting you on that, Potts."

"Go ahead, Stark."

I smirk to myself, and we're suddenly lost for conversation. I'm not one for awkward silences, but I can't think of anything to talk about. Suddenly, my phone vibrates in my pocket and I jump, almost hitting my head on the plane's ceiling. Pepper gasped—I heard her—but she tries to conceal it with a suave little, "Who is it?"

I glance at the caller ID then flip the phone open. "Rhodey!" I tuck the phone in between my shoulder and my right ear as I talk. "What's up?"

"Are you going to the MIT thing tonight, Tony?"

"Yeah, why?"

"How are you getting there?"

"Plane."

"Who's flying it?"

I accidentally bite my lip and swear under my breath. "I, uh…" Before I can answer fully, I can feel Pepper grab the phone away from me. I whirl around and make an attempt to get it back, but she's already got it up to her ear and is a good ten feet away from me.

"Rhodey?" She pauses and I tap my shoes against the floor impatiently. I can't stand being left out of a conversation like this: never have, never will.

"Why didn't you pick up your phone earlier?"

Oh, shit.

"He said he called you…"

The look Pepper's giving me right now is absolutely solid ice.

"Really. Okay, then. I'll just give you an overview of everything that happens when we get back. Thanks. Bye, Rhodey."

She hangs up and tosses my phone around in her hands. "You never called him," she says, her eyes glued to my phone.

"Maybe not."

She sighs like a mother who's upset at her little kid for shoving another kid's face into the sand at the playground. "Can I ask why you didn't?"

"You just did, so I guess you can."

"I guess you can answer, then."

I shrug. "Is it so bad that I wanted to be up here with just you?" She looks at me for a beat, then starts laughing. Not exactly the response I was hoping for. Something along the lines of, "Oh my God, Tony, me too! Let's make out" would've been nice, but beggars can't be choosers.

She shakes her head slightly but doesn't say anything. "Would it kill you to be responsible? Just once in your life, Tony?"

"I'm not being irresponsible here."

"Oh, you're right. You're just being stupid."

"Hey, it's not like I can't fly a plane."

"But Rhodey's a _professional_, Tony," she persists. "Why wouldn't you want a professional flying us to MIT?"

I open my mouth to give her my reason, but close it quickly, thinking that now isn't a good time.

She waits for my answer for a few seconds, then presses the side of her head against a window, gazing outside. The sun's glinting off her hair, and I can't help but swoon even the tiniest bit. The way her face is lit up right now, even though she's pissed off at me, is the epitome of attractiveness. Nobody has to know about this, though. It's staying here.

God damn, MIT sure knows how to throw an after party. Pepper and I are "courteously invited," and I can't say that I'd want to decline this little gem of an invite. I can't say I know where Pepper is, though, either.

I have my own chair at the bar, which just about blows my mind. Not really, but it's nice to be polite. Plus, it's got my name sewn into the fabric, and I can bring it home if I want. Can't beat that MIT hospitality.

"Mr. Stark, my name's Gloria Matherson, I'm from the school paper. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" I turn around in my seat and take in the college girl standing behind me, her pen and notebook ready to go. She's got thick black-rimmed glasses and is kind of short—not the usual type I'd grace with an interview, but I'm feeling generous. Or maybe it's just the alcohol.

"Sure," I say, downing another gulp of my drink before placing it on the counter. "Shoot."

She looks kind of flustered now, maybe not having expected permission to continue. "What made you decide to go into weapons manufacturing?"

I bite my bottom lip and stare at her, wondering if she's serious. I can hear a light clink behind me; thinking somebody's dropped some loose change, I don't turn around.

"Uh, my parents," I stammer. "My dad."

She nods, writing down this horribly obvious answer that she could have found on Wikipedia. She glances at her watch and then tells me that she has to go. I stare at her back at she walks away, my jaw slack. I can't tell what's just happened. Finally, I just decide to turn around and finish my drink. The thing's gone in two sips and I drop my elbows on the table, my head in my hands. I wonder where Pepper is. I kind of want to go home now.

I'm about to stand up and go track Pepper down when I feel my knees buckle. As if on cue, my head starts swimming and I collapse back into my chair, grabbing onto the bar for dear life. My fingers curl around my glass and clink it weakly on the counter as I feel my head get heaver.

"Pepper," I breathe, panicked.

The last thing I see is the damn bartender shoving a pepper shaker my way.


	3. Pepper and Perry

I don't own _Kiss Kiss Bang Bang_, even though that'd be fantastic. Any other characters you recognize, I don't own, either. This story has officially been disclaimed. Also, no owning of _Iron Man_, either.

Thanks to j.v. hearts13 and movieholic for reviewing! you guys rock :)

listened to while writing this chapter: The cast commentary for _Tropic Thunder_. Good God, I haven't heard a commentary that hysterical in a long time. Ben, Jack, and Robert are just...wow. Seriously, if you're in the mood, check it out, it'll make your day.

* * *

I wish Tony would just say that he wants to leave; I'm sick of MIT. He probably loves it, though. I wonder if he'd agree to leave if I told him that I wanted to. I think there's at least a fifty-fifty chance, so I decide to give it a shot.

As I make my way to the bar Tony was at, I notice a man in a suit being dragged out of the hall. He must've passed out from too much alcohol. I always get nervous that'll happen to Tony, and then he'll end up in the wrong hands. Pardon my French, but that would _suck_.

The bartender is cleaning up a small spill from an earlier customer, but that's all the activity that's going on. Tony isn't here, and my heart starts beating faster. I don't want to add any drama to the situation before it's one hundred percent necessary, so I whip out my cell phone and dial Rhodey's number.

"Hello?" His voice is groggy, like I just woke him up from a nap.

"Rhodey, I have to ask you something."

My voice must sound more panicked than I think it does, because his voice automatically perks up. "What's going on?"

"Did Tony call you?"

"Did he call me? Why would he call me?"

"I can't find him," I whisper.

I think he might have dropped the phone. "Uh, what?"

"I don't know where he went, Rhodey. Idontknowwhereheis."

"Slow down, Pepper."

"Rhodey, I don't know where he is," I repeat, trying to keep my voice under control. "I don't know what to do, I mean, I thought…maybe he was with you, but that makes absolutely no sense, how the hell could he be with you, and…oh my God…"

He sucks in a harsh breath and tries to start calming me down again. "Pepper, I'm sure he couldn't have gone far. He's a grown man."

"He's Tony Stark, Rhodey," I remind him.

He sighs. "Right." There's a pause before he continues. "But if something's wrong, he's gotta still be in the building, at least."

"How do you know?" I demand.

"Have you called his cell phone yet?"

C'mon, Pepper, why didn't you think of that sooner? Stop jumping to conclusions! "No, not yet."

Rhodey breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay, then. Call his phone, then call me back and let me know what's up."

I hang up before saying goodbye to him and immediately dial Tony's number. My shoes tap impatiently against the marble floor as I wait for Tony to pick up and chide me for interrupting him. My heart jumps when it sounds like the call's about to be connected, but a second later I'm sent to his voicemail.

"Tony, I need you to call me as soon as you can, okay? And don't think it's funny—you won't be laughing when I call the police and tell them you're missing, and then you have to explain everything." I snap the phone shut and open it again, dialing Rhodey's number.

"He's not picking up."

"Okay…uh, ask someone if they've seen him. Ask a bartender or a girl or something."

I turn to the bartender who was cleaning up the spill earlier. "Uh, hi," I begin hesitantly."

He glances up at me. "Evening, miss. What can I get you?"

"I was just wondering if you've seen Tony Stark at all tonight?"

He clucks his tongue a few times. "Tony Stark. Tony Starrrrk. Well, yeah, he was here just a few minutes ago, having a drink."

"D'you know where he went?"

He shrugs and hands a customer some scotch. "He kinda just—" He rolls his wrist, trying to find the right words. "—passed out. A coupla guys brought him out."

I squeeze my eyes shut and do my best not to pass out myself. "Um." I bite my lip. "What did they, uh, look like?"

"Well, bodyguards, I guess. That's what I thought they were. They looked official enough. Gents in suits."

I swallow hard, hoping Rhodey can hear this conversation, because I really don't want to repeat it to him. "H-how long ago did they leave?"

"Eh. Five minutes, more or less. Last thing Stark wanted was some pepper, for some reason…" He shrugs.

I stare at him, not sure of what to say. I finally settle on "…thanks," and address my attention to Rhodey. "Did you hear all of that?"

"No. What's up?"

"They took him," I answer quickly.

"Who did?"

"I don't _know _who did, Rhodey! Somebody did! People who aren't fans of Tony Stark!"

"Pepper," he hisses, panicked. "Pepper, keep your voice down!"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry."

He sighs. "Okay, just…get back here as soon as possible. Uh, leave Tony's plane there; make sure someone's looking after it until we can get it back here. Get to the airport, find a plane going to California—no connector, if you can—and meet me at Tony's place."

I nod about five times. "Okay. Okay, Rhodey. Bye." I slip the phone back into my purse and make my way for the door. For some reason, it's harder than I expected: there's a cluster of people that's slowly growing in size huddled around a flat screen TV. I can't see anything, but apparently there's nothing to see, only stuff to hear.

"_Breaking news that you can only hear right here on channel five…this station has received a phone call stating that the infamous weapons tycoon turned superhero, Tony Stark, has disappeared from a commencement after party held at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology tonight. According to the caller, Mr. Stark is alive—_" He's alive, he's alive…that doesn't mean he's not hurt. Oh my God, oh my God, I've gotta get out of here. "_—the 'proper authorities' will be contacted at a later time to discuss demands for Mr. Stark's safety. We will be covering this story for as long as necessary, and our thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Stark's family and friends_."

"What family? That rich prick's parents are both _dead_!" a drunk guy cackles from the front. "And _friends_? Who do they think they're kidding?" He draws some faint chuckles, but most people are just standing there. I feel bad when I think back to it, but the first thought that popped into my head when I heard that guy was something along the lines of, "I'm wearing stilettos right now, and they could seriously pop his eye out."

* * *

I'm staring at the TV, my chin in my hand with my index finger over my lips. Harry calls it my "contemplative face." I usually respond to this by calling every one of his faces a "dipshit face," or something along those lines, but that doesn't seem appropriate today.

"_Breaking news that you can only hear right here on channel five…this station has received a phone call stating that the infamous weapons tycoon turned superhero, Tony Stark, has disappeared from a commencement after party held at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology tonight. According to the caller, Mr. Stark is alive_ as of right now. _His captors have made no threats against his life to our knowledge—" _To their knowledge? They've got the goddamn tape; come on._ "—_ _It's unknown as to where Mr. Stark is located, but—" _Okay, I'm sorry, but what the hell. Of course you don't know where he is, you idiots, that would kind of defeat the whole purpose of him being _kidnapped_. Jesus Christ. And I thought Harry was bad. "—_the 'proper authorities' will be contacted at a later time to discuss demands for Mr. Stark's safety. We will be covering this story for as long as necessary, and our thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Stark's family and friends_."

I stand up and sigh. I don't know why I'm listening to Tony Stark's woes and miseries and shit when I've got some of my own, and mine doesn't even get press coverage. I just get a letter shoved into my mail slot—which could be considered a bit more personal, I guess. I still don't get what they would want with Harry, though. According to him, the only person who'd be out for his blood is the owner of that toy store he robbed with his pal, or maybe Harmony's ugly friend. I mean, not to be cocky or anything, but I would've thought that they'd have wanted me more than him.

I _am _Gay Perry, after all.

I have absolutely no leads for this case. I got the phone call from Harry inside his pocket, which, I've gotta admit, was a pretty smart move on his part. I have a ransom letter with the usual ransom junk on it: "We've got your friend, he'll be okay as long as you do what we ask, we'll contact you later with more information," yadda yadda yadda. The only thing that I did end up doing was going to a hotel, which is where I am now. Harry saying that they were coming to my house freaked me out just a tad—don't be a jerk-off, you would've been freaked out, too—and I had my doorman go get my mail, just in case.

Now that I think about it, though, it _is _kind of weird that Stark goes missing the same night Harry does. That's really weird. I turn the letter over and over in my hands. I should probably start from the top. Everyone involved in the Christmas Incident is either dead or in jail…unless they have cousins or something and are working from the inside. I wonder how possible that is. I decide not to rule it out as a possibility when I hear my phone vibrate on the nightstand. Thinking it's Harry, I grab it and answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Is this, uh, Perry Van Shrike?"

I pause. "Speaking."

"My name's Jim Rhodes, I'm, uh, I work in the military."

"Pleasure, Mr. Rhodes. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm good friends with Tony Stark, and I'm sure you've seen the news recently? As in, like, the last three minutes?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I have," I answer, making my way back to the bed and resuming my position in front of the TV. "I've actually got a little hostage situation of my own, Mr. Rhodes."

"Really?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "Who?"

"My assistant. Harry Lockhart. He's not gonna be making headlines anytime soon, though."

"Oh. Well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to give us a hand with this…and hey, maybe we can help you out with your friend, there."

"I'm listening."

"Great. Mr. Stark's assistant, Pepper, is coming back to California as soon as possible. Do you think you could make it to Mr. Stark's house in the next fifteen minutes?"

"I'm sure I could. I just need to know where it is."

"I'll give you directions while you're driving, if you don't mind. It'll be easier that way. There are a lot of…turns. It gets confusing."

I grin. "All right, Mr. Rhodes. I'm heading to my car right now."

"Great. See you then."

"Bye."

Well, that's quite the turn of events.


	4. Harry and Tony

j.v. hearts13: thanks, glad you're liking it! i'm so in love with that commentary, and you're right, Robert was fantastic...but that's to be expected from him :)

movieholic: a gem! well hey, thanks! :) yeah, i'm a fan of the way Perry and Pepper's names sound together, too, there's a nice ring to 'em.

listened to while writing this chapter: Manic Street Preachers. Now there's some good music.

* * *

Two of the guys I got acquainted with earlier come charging into the room, dragging another unconscious guy in between them. This new guy, Jesus, he looks like a wreck. His hair is all messed up and it looks like someone gave him a couple of good punches to the face.

That's always something I've never understood, even though I just said it—how can a punch to the face be good? I mean, do they mean good as in "effective," "nice form," what? Because I'll tell you, when I think of punches, the first thing that pops into my mind sure as hell isn't "good."

One of the guys, who I've come to recognize as Carl, notices me watching them and smirks. "Having fun, Lockhart?"

"It's a dream." He kicks me hard in the knee, and I suppress a string of profanity the size of an anaconda.

"Well, now you've got some company," he tells me as he jerks the new guy down next to me and handcuffs him to the pole next to mine. How convenient is it for them, two poles right next to each other, two kidnapped dudes? Hell, you'd think they'd planned this. "Lockhart, meet Stark."

I glance at my new neighbor, whose head is lolled to one side, and then look back at Carl. "Uh, thanks?"

"Don't mention it. G'night, Lockhart."

I wait until I'm sure the door is closed before I mutter, "Let the bedbugs bite."

After about twenty minutes, dude next to me still hasn't regained consciousness, and I'm even more uncomfortable than I was when I was alone. I nudge Stark with my knee lightly while trying to remember where I know his name from.

* * *

I think I got hit by a train. Goddamn it. I force myself to open my eyes, and once I do, I wonder if I'm blind. The room I'm in is pitch black, but then I notice a tiny nightlight nearby and a few candles, and my blindness fears are quelled. My head is killing me, but when I try and rest it in my hands, I realize that they're handcuffed behind my back.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I mutter.

"Oh, hey! You're awake. About time, man. Seriously."

"Jesus!" I yelp, jumping back from whoever's next to me. I can feel the metal from the handcuffs dig into my wrists, and I flinch.

"You're like, a superhero, aren't you? What are you—Batman? Spider-Man? The Hulk?" the guy next to me presses. I roll my eyes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Harry Lockhart. Looks like we're hostage buddies, pal. So, uh, what's your first name?"

"Tony."

"Tony _Stark_! Right. I knew your name sounded familiar."

I wish I was handcuffed across the room from this guy, instead of right next to him. "What are you doing here?" I ask after a slightly awkward silence.

"Being a captive."

"C'mon, Harry, you know what I mean." At least, I hope he does.

"I have no idea. I mean, I have an idea about what you mean, I just have no idea why I'm here. I mean, do you know why _you're _here? I don't think it's really something they brief you on before they kidnap you, y'know?"

"I have an idea."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"It probably has to do with the fact that I'm a billionaire."

Harry whistles. "Good call."

"Yeah. And, I'm kind of Iron Man."

"Jesus, you've got it all, don't you?" Not really, no. "Hey," he adds suddenly, "since you're Iron Man, you must be really good with metal and shit, right?"

I shrug. "I know my way around."

"Can you get us out of these?" He jangles his handcuffs hopefully.

"Not without a key, or something to pick the lock, sorry to say."

"Well, that's a bummer, dude."

"Yeah, I'm not too thrilled about it, either."

"You don't have, like, laser eyes or anything like that?"

I stare at Harry, dumbfounded. "Do I look like I'm wearing the suit right now?"

"Well, it's kind of dark." He needs a clue for this. My God.

"You can't handcuff Iron Man, dipshit." I'm usually not this bad, I swear to God.

"Oh, right. Iron Man's wrists are too fat," he dishes.

I can tell I'm not going to be able to deal with Harry Lockhart much longer.

* * *

Tony's kind of a snarky little priss. Snarky Stark. That sounds like some weird breed of bird. Do birds even come in breeds? Clans, maybe? Clusters…nah, those only remind me of peanuts.

I mean, there's not much else to do here but make small talk, and he's not even open to that. Well, hell, I'm fresh out of options.

"So, are we just gonna sit here, then?"

He shrugs. "Do you have anything else to talk about?"

I pause. He cuts in before I can answer with, "Besides the fact that my wrists are too fat to get handcuffed?"

"So it is a fact?" So sue me; he asked for it, I couldn't resist.

"They're fat enough to knock you out for a week, Lockhart."

"Really?"

"I can make it a month, if that suits you better."

"No, a week's fine."

"All right, then."

I'm about to give up on this guy and try and get some sleep when something light, light blue catches my eye.

"Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"That…_blue _thing."

"_Blue _thing?" I can't tell if he's mocking me, or really has no idea what I'm talking about.

I squint at it for a few seconds, but still can't figure out what the hell it's supposed to be. "The blue thing sticking out of your fucking chest."

"Eh, arc reactor."

"Excuse you?"

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. "We don't tell anyone about this, right?"

This is the wrong thing to say, it just piques my curiosity even more. "We don't tell anyone about this because…?"

"Because I'll sue your ass to kingdom come."

"Okay, enough said. What is it again?"

"An arc reactor."

"That sounds important." This, my friends, could be total bullshit. I have no idea whether or not an arc reactor is important, it could just be an overhyped and badly named Christmas ornament, for all I know. But judging from what Tony tells me next, it's pretty damn important.

"You heard on the news about how I was captured, right?"

"Yeah, I heard something about it." Yeah, I caught one of the ten million newscasts on the subject. It wasn't too hard.

"Well, uh, this—" He jerks his head down at his arc reactor "—this is keeping my heart beating."

I stare at him. "You're shittin' me."

He shakes his head. "I shit you not. There's shrapnel in there, and the only reason it's not going into my heart and killing me right in front of you is because of this little guy."

"Huh." Perry would like this. I'm not sure if he's into science or anything, but hey, anyone would like this. It's cool.

We've actually got a nice connection here, a little flow going, when Carl and one other guy whip the door open and trudge towards us. I heard Carl refer to him earlier as Brett, so Brett he is.

Brett sighs and bends down in front of Tony. "You're first, pal," he says, unlocking Tony's handcuffs briefly, dragging him to his feet, then locking them back into place. "Let's go."

Carl does the same for me, and we're off.

* * *

I feel like the whole world already knows about my chest issues, and it's always a jerk back to reality when they look at me as if I told them I'm a superhero.

He's got his hands around my wrists for added security, supposedly, which seems ridiculously stupid to me, and he's constantly tripping over his own feet. Harry's next to me with the other guy, who could really care less about him. He's just walking behind Harry, not laying a hand on him, and I can't help but feel a little jealous. I don't want this guy's hands on me.

We're led into a little room with a couple of couches and a fridge, which might seem kind of cozy if it weren't for the fact that they belonged to Brett and Carl. The leader of this whole shebang, I'm assuming, is sitting on one of the couches, a cigarette laced between his fingers. He grins when he sees Harry and me.

"Mr. Stark," he greets, standing and getting ready to shake my hand. When I don't return the gesture, he looks down at where my hands should be and giggles to himself—he literally giggles—as if he's made some huge joke. "You weren't as hard to kidnap as we'd predicted."

I don't know what to say to this, what the hell would you say to this?

"Can I let you in on a secret, Tony?" he asks.

"If you want."

"We actually were going for your assistant, there. We figured she'd be easier to get a handle on, but you, oh boy. You just cut out the middle man for us. So, thanks."

"What the hell d'you want?"

"Right now," he says, pulling out his cell phone, "right now, I want you to talk to your lovely little gal pal. Tell her you're okay, all that jazz, but don't give too much away. That'd just ruin the fun." My eyes widen as I realize that's not his phone; it's mine. Holy shit. Do I have password protection on that? My mind draws a blank as I watch him hold the phone up to his ear. After a second, though, he pulls it away and puts it on speaker.

Pepper's voice floods into the room, high-pitched and panicky. "Tony!" she cries. "Tony, where the hell are you?"

"How're you doing, there, Miss Potts?" he asks.

She's silent for a few seconds. "Where's Tony?" she asks gravely. "What'd you do with him?"

"He's fine, right next to me actually, as we speak."

"I want to talk to him." Good old Pepper, right to business, always. Even on her birthday.

"That'll come soon enough, Miss Potts. First, we've gotta lay down some ground rules, okay?" He doesn't wait for her to answer before he continues. "The police do _not _get involved in this, right?"

"It's already all over the news."

"That's how it's gonna stay. You're not calling the police after this. You're not tracking this call. Right?" That doesn't make any sense.

"Right," she sighs.

"Do you want to talk to Tony?"

"Yes."

He motions for me to come closer, and Brett shoves me forward a little. I bend down as he holds the phone closer to me, and we meet in the middle.

"H_eyay_, Potts."

"Are you all right?" Her tone's all business again.

"Could be better, honey. But I've got a friend here."

"Rhodes?"

"What? No. Harry Lockhart. You've never met him. But hey, he's here too," I tell her, trying to enunciate that, in case someone is looking for him, too.

"You're giving just a little too much away here, Mr. Stark," he tells me softly.

I can't think of anything else to say. Why don't Pepper and I have any cool code words or anything? Why didn't I think of that?

"All right, that's enough," he says, taking the phone back.

"What was the point of that?" Brett asks. I roll my eyes. This is definitely his first time in this game.

He shrugs. "To let Miss Potts know that her boss is still alive." He turns his attention back to Pepper. "So, uh, call you later?"

"Wait, can—" Pepper begins, but is cut off as he snaps my phone shut.

I can hear Harry mutter something along the lines of, "Well, that was eventful" from the back of the room.

"Okay, that's it," he says, waving a hand for us to leave. When he thinks I'm not looking, he flicks my phone open again and starts fooling around with it.

"I want that," I tell him.

He looks at me and grins. "Oh, right. I forgot this is yours." He gets to his feet and walks behind me. I crane my neck to see what he's doing when I feel the phone brush my fingertips. I make a grab for it, but he jerks it away at the last second. "You can't always get what you want, Mr. Stark."

As we're walking back to that lovely room, Brett tries to strike up a conversation with me.

"Hey, Stark."

"Hey."

"I've got a question for you."

"I might have an answer."

"Might?"

"Depends on the question."

He snickers to himself before continuing. "That assistant of yours, is she as foxy in person as she always looks on the cameras? 'Cause damn, man, you've got yourself a catch there. That girl is _fine_."

I freeze, but he shoves me forward. "Don't talk about her like that," I tell him through gritted teeth.

"Oh, hey, sorry. Didn't realize she was your property," he mutters, his voice saucy. "But seriously, what I wouldn't do to get her in bed with me—"

I whip around and make an attempt to punch him in more than one place, more than once. He takes a step back and watches me for a second, then bursts into laughter, grabs my elbows, and turns me back around.

"Don't you _ever_ talk about her," I growl. "_Ever_." I realize now that I could have kicked him, and wonder if it's still possible to do so effectively.

"I can talk about her all I want, Starky-boy. It's not like _you _can do anything about it."

"I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"You stay away from her." I don't like that he's behind me, that I can't see him.

"Ooh, that sex toy of Tony Stark's…she's a sexy _bitch_. She's his _bitch_. She's a _tramp_, he found her in _Vegas_ and felt _badly_—"

Harry interjects. "Bad."

Brett stares at him. "What?"

"You feel bad."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Badly's, uh, it's an adjec—no, it's an adverb. And if you said you feel badly, that means that the mechanism which allows you to feel is broken," he explains quickly, with a trace of pride in his voice.

"Uh, you've gotta shut up," Carl tells him.

Maybe it's good that Harry broke up that argument. Then again, maybe not. I can't think of anything else to say as Brett and Carl re-handcuff us to the poles and shut the door again.

I need my phone. Right now.


	5. Perry and Rhodey

movieholic: thanks for reviewing again! "badly" is possibly one of my favorite scenes in kkbb, i'm wicked happy you liked it and caught the reference. and on a weirder note, i was going through the imdb boards for rdj, and there was this user who was writing all these different posts that i agreed with. they had a website in their signature, so i clicked on it, and bam! it was yours. and i just thought that was really funny/random. so yeah, good use of imdb board space :)

EccentrikPirate: thanks! i'm glad you're liking it :)

a/n: sorry for lack of updates lately :( from school in general to college apps to yearbook deadlines, stuff's been kind of stress-ish lately. and this isn't even that long of a chapter. i'm planning on writing more tonight, but i feel bad for not updating earlier, so here's a little snip to get started.

listened to while writing this chapter: The Decemberists 3.

* * *

Tony Stark's house is, well, badass. _This _is the way us private detectives should be living. I park my car in the driveway, which is devoid of cars anyway, and take a random guess as to which door I'm supposed to enter through.

I walk into this crazy living room with a waterfall—there's a goddamn waterfall coming out of his fucking _wall_—when this little robotic voice greets me.

"Hello, Mr. Van Shrike."

My head tilts to one side as I look around, but there's no one here. I feel like Harry must have back in New York, when he still robbed shit. Always paranoid, thinking somebody's watching you. "Uh, hi," I finally stammer. "Who…might you be?"

"I'm JARVIS, sir."

"Oh. Uh, pleased to meet you."

"Likewise. Mr. Rhodes is very anxious to meet you; he's downstairs."

"Should I go down there?" I feel like I shouldn't piss this thing off, so I figure it's better to be safe than sorry.

There's an awkward pause before he answers me. "Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. Thanks for your help."

Stark's basement, Jesus, I don't even know if that's the right thing to call it, but it's impressive. He's living up to his reputation as technology extraordinaire, in my opinion. There's still the rumor of him being an annoying, cocky little fucker, too, so we'll have to see how that goes. I feel like a little kid in an expensive store—I want to touch everything. Please avoid the sexual references, there, they're not intentional or necessary.

"Mr. Van Shrike?" I turn around, and a guy in a military uniform is sitting down across the room. He grins a little and stands up to shake my hand.

"Yeah, call me Perry. You're Rhodes, I take it?"

"I am. Thanks for coming so quickly. The directions were okay?"

"Yeah, they were, uh, fine." I grab the back of my neck with my right hand before continuing. "When I got in here, there was, uh, this creepy British guy named Jasper…"

He laughs. "JARVIS?"

"Yeah, that's it. Uh, no offense, but where the hell was he?"

"He's a computer. Mr. Stark created him to basically be the eyes and ears of the Stark mansion."

Well, damn. Stark strikes again.

**"How long has Stark been missing?" I ask, taking a seat on a nearby couch. It's small, a loveseat maybe, used for the nights when our weapons mastermind just wants to crash down here instead of going upstairs. I'd love to take credit for all these assumptions, but I'd feel like a cheap bastard if I did. There's a pillow on the floor next to my feet, and a quilt draped over the couch's back. It looks homemade. A gift from Mommy Stark, perhaps.**

**For some reason, my $2,000 ceramic vector that _my _mother got me as a special gift comes to mind. Maybe Stark's blanket is a present from his mom. I know how pissed I was when Harry threw my gun into the lake, I can picture how pissed Stark would be if something happened to that quilt. Shit, maybe I'm just getting sentimental and the blanket doesn't mean anything. I guess it's just something to make Stark seem more human than the news stations and TV interviews make him out to be.**

Rhodes shrugs. "Since today. I just got a call from Miss Potts, and she was scared out of her mind. I think she thinks it's her fault that he's gone."

"Is Miss Potts…" I twist my wrist a few times, trying to find the right words, "Stark's…gal pal?"

He sighs and shrugs. "They keep insisting they're not."

"So they are."

"I don't know. That's something you can ask Miss Potts when she gets here. Why, uh, would that make any difference, anyway?"

"If Potts is Stark's s.o., then there's a chance that they were after her first, trying to get to him."

"Well, they've got him now; wouldn't that make things easier?"

I hold up a finger. "Not necessarily. Their plan could've revolved entirely around getting Potts first, and going after Stark later. They could be up shit creek right now, for all we know. Confusion, tempers, lack of smart moves, the whole deal."

"Oh." He nods slowly, but I can tell he's got no idea what I'm talking about.

"When is Potts set to come back?"

"As soon as she can."

I nod slowly and entwine my fingers behind my head, leaning back against the couch. "So, is Tony really as big of a son of a bitch as people say?"

Rhodey looks at me. He's got nice eyes. "Define 'son of a bitch.'"

I pause before answering. "Tony Stark."

He grins a little but won't look at me when he does so.

"I'll take that as a 'You're right, Perry, but I'm not gonna admit it because Tony's my friend.' Am I right?"

He shrugs.

"He's not here, Mr. Rhodes," I tell him. "I'm not gonna tell 'im. I mean, hell, it's not like I can."

"That joke's not in the best taste, here, Perry." He pauses before adding, "You can call me Jim."

"Just trying to lighten the mood."

There's an awkward silence before Rhodes takes another stab at conversation. "Uh, what'd you say the name of your guy was?"

"My guy?"

"Your…assistant."

"Oh. Harry Lockhart."

"Right."

"What about him?"

"Well, I mean, nothing really. I was just wondering what his name was. I forgot."

"Is this really that awkward for you?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Do you talk to people a lot, Jim?"

"Of course I do! I'm in the military, for God's sake."

"You don't have to talk if you're in the military."

He rolls his eyes. "They kind of frown on mute soldiers, Perry."

"Do they now? Why would that be?"

"Because they're mute."

"So? A mute solider could still be a damn good soldier, if you ask me. It's all a matter of opinion, though, I guess."

"Why are we even talking about this?"

I shrug. "Just trying to make conversation. Waiting 'til Mrs. Potts gets here."

"_Miss _Potts."

"What?"

"Her name is _Miss _Potts. Pepper."

"What'd I say?"

"_Mrs. _Potts."

I snap my fingers and grin. "Ah, like that teapot from _Beauty and the Beast_."

"Exactly."

I open my mouth to answer—"Rhodey!"—but I sure as hell didn't say that. We both turn, and standing in the doorway, breathing heavily and fast, is the one and only Pepper Potts.

Or so I'm guessing.


	6. Everybody!

movieholic: thanks for reviewing again! :) i know, i saw that and was like "wait, what?! dude, i know her!" haha

j.v. hearts13: thanks! and don't worry about it, i'm just glad you still like it :). and thanks so much for the title suggestions!

JerseySaint19: thanks for reviewing! glad you liked it, and i'm gonna be trying to make the chapters longer, that one was sort of just a little blurb because i felt bad for not updating for awhile

a/n: this story officially has a title! courtesy of j.v. hearts13, this story is now called "When Harry Met Tony." thanks again! :D also, i added in a little bit to chapter 5. it's only about a paragraph long; i put it in **bold**. it's not the most important thing, but i felt like it fit in well and i like the way it sounded, plus it's mentioned briefly in this chapter, so i added it in.

listened to while writing this chapter: Girl Talk!

* * *

Rhodey jumps to his feet and rushes over to me. I don't want him near me right now. I need to fix my makeup, my mascara's running, I—

Oh my God, somebody's here.

My eyes finally register the man sitting on the couch, sitting on the couch Tony always sits on. He's looking at me like someone would look at a car crash, which doesn't do anything good for my self esteem.

He takes my hand with a faint, "Hey, Pepper," and leads me over to the couch he's sitting at. This is the last thing I want to do, sit next to this guy, but I don't want to be rude. I sit as close to the armrest as I can, and he shifts his weight awkwardly, turning away from me.

"Pepper, this is Perry Van Shrike; he's a private detective," Rhodey introduces. "Perry, this is Pepper."

He glances at me halfheartedly and forces a smile. "Hi."

I nod in response, the hand holding my phone still shaking.

"He's gonna help us find Tony." He's talking to me like I'm five years old, and I can't say I appreciate it. I can't say I believe this private eye is going to help us, either. I've never heard of him.

"Do you, uh, are you okay?" Perry asks, eyeing my hand.

I glance at him, then turn my attention to Rhodey. "I just talked to him."

Perry's ears perk up, but he stays silent. Rhodey gestures towards the man next to me. "Tell him."

"You heard me, right?" I ask, keeping my eyes locked on Rhodey.

"Keep going," he tells me.

"Someone—whoever has him—has his phone," I begin, pausing as I hear Perry mutter something under his breath. I shoot him a quick glare; his facial expression morphs from an almost disgusted one into a comforting one. "They called me, and had me talk to To—Mr. Stark."

"What'd he say?"

"The usual stuff he'd say," I answer, cradling the phone in my hands.

"Miss…Potts," Perry begins gingerly. "I don't want to sound like a jackass or anything, but it's pretty important that you tell us _exactly _what you and your boss talked about. If it's sexual, I'll forget it immediately, and so will Rhodes. I promise."

I stare at Perry and can feel my jaw drop. "Why should I tell you our private conversation?"

He pauses. "So that I can help you find him, you know?" He waves his hand around, snapping his fingers a few times. "That's usually how it happens."

"Pepper, just tell him what you talked about. Please," Rhodey tells me.

I sigh as I turn entirely toward Perry. "There was no sexual talk," I tell him quickly.

"No sexual talk," he repeats. "Go on."

"He said hi, after I talked to whoever had him, and then I asked where he was. He said he had a friend with him, so I asked if you were with him, Rhodey. He said no, he said it was some other man I'd never heard of. He—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Perry interrupts, shooting upright from his slouch. "Name?"

"What?"

"What was the _name _of the guy with him?"

"I don't remember," I answer, "I don't see what difference it would make—"

He chuckles without humor and stares me down. "Oh, trust me, it's gonna make a difference. So I'm asking you again, Miss Potts, what was the other guy's name?"

"I don't see what this has to do with Tony…"

"Could you just cut the shit and tell me, please?"

I make a mental note to strangle Rhodey later for his lack of private eye-hiring skills as I stare at Perry again. I think I spend more time staring at him than I do answering his questions.

"You spend more time staring at me than answering my questions, Miss Potts. Can I call you Pepper? Good. You spend more time staring at me than answering my questions, Pepper. Care to change that?"

I roll my eyes and try to remember the other man's name. "It began with an 'H,' I think," I decide finally.

Perry's eyes widen and it takes me by surprise. "Harry? Was it Harry?"

"It might've been. I think so. Yes."

"Harry…Lockhart?"

By this time, Rhodey's eyes are pretty wide, too.

"I think so."

"So your case—" Perry points at Rhodey and me, "—and my case…arethesamefuckin'case."

"Wait, what?" I ask as I watch Perry jump up, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Perry's assistant is missing, too," Rhodey tells me. "His name's Harry Lockhart, and apparently, he's with Tony."

"Holy shit," Perry breathes. "Okay, equalize. We're getting somewhere, right? I mean, at least now we're not trying to follow two different cases."

"You thought we'd be following two different cases?" I ask, a little stunned.

"That's what your pal Rhodes told me." He sits back down and as he does so, I notice that the back of his belt catches on Tony's quilt. Before he's fully down, I manage to yank it out from behind him and fold it in my lap. He looks at me holding the quilt, and for some reason, he looks like his suspicions of something are being confirmed.

"Okay," Rhodey says slowly, getting ready to take charge, it seems, "what's next?"

There's a slight vibration in Perry's pocket. His body fidgets, startled, as he jerks his phone out of his pocket.

"We talk to Harry," he tells us, opening his phone, "that's what's next."

* * *

"So, who was that?" I ask, tucking my leg under my ass. This is usually a comfortable position for me when I'm sitting in a chair, but it's not as nice, I find, when you're on the floor.

"Who was who?" he asks monotonously, not looking at me.

"That girl you were talking to. The girl you nearly had a conniption over when Brett tried to hit on her."

"My assistant," he mumbles.

"Oh." I nod slowly. "Is she pretty?"

This catches his attention, he gets defensive. "Why?"

"Jesus Christ, just wondering, man."

"She's…decent," he admits. I smirk.

"She's hot, isn't she?"

His eyes lock with mine. "Don't get me started, Harry; I'll kick your ass."

"Oh, like you kicked Brett's, right?" I tease.

"Shut up."

"What's her name?"

"If I tell you…no, I'm not even gonna tell you."

"Why?" I stamp my foot like a bratty little three-year-old, something Perry compares me to more often than you might think. It doesn't sound as threatening as it usually does, simply because I can't bring my foot up high enough to make a decent bang.

"No."

"Come _on_."

He sticks his tongue out at me, and I respond with a hearty, "Fuck you."

"At least I know her name."

"I hope I get rescued first."

Tony smirks. "Doubt that."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I've got the military on my side. I've got a robot at home. I've got Pep—shit."

"Aha!" I yelp. "Pep! That's her name, isn't it?"

"Not her name," he says hurriedly.

"Come on. It might be a nickname or something, but that's what you call her, isn't it? What, her last name's Potts, right? I know that."

"That's not what I call her."

I roll my eyes. "Do you call her all the things Brett called her?" I don't know why I'm asking him this, I'm just digging a deeper hole for myself. But it's something to do, and it takes even more time as I try to dig myself out of said hole.

He turns and stares at me. "Don't. Go. There."

"Just tell me her goddamn _name_, Tony. Why is it that big of a deal?"

"She's _my _assistant."

"So? I'm an assistant. Want to know who I'm assisting? Huh?"

"No."

"Perry Van Shrike, that's who."

His eyebrow raises slightly. "Who the hell is that?"

"It doesn't make any difference right now," I splutter. "I thought we were friends."

He laughs. "I've known you for what, a half hour, at the most?" He pauses. "If anything, we're acquaintances. Goddamn hostage comrades."

"Hostage comrades deserve to know the names of each other's assistants."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"You gonna make me guess? Am I gonna have to guess all night?"

"It's morning, idiot."

"How do you know?" Seriously, we can't tell in this shithole of a room. I'd be nice to know. Maybe I can go take a pee and figure it out. Then it'll be night and I can rub it in his face.

He pauses, sighs before answering. "I'll make you a deal," he says slowly.

My ears perk up like they would if he told me he'd give me a million bucks. And his Iron Man suit. "I'm listening."

"If you can get my phone back, I'll tell you her name." He grins at me.

I stare at him, my jaw slack. "Uh, fuck _that_. I'm guessing. Pep…per Ann?"

"What, like the TV show?"

"There's a TV show?"

"There _was_, yeah."

"Oh. I guess, then, yeah."

"No."

"Pep…rika." Please don't talk to me about this guess; it seemed logical at the time.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"What?"

"Peprika?"

"So?"

"For one, it's 'paprika.' For two, it's just a stupid guess."

"Oh, thanks."

"Come on, Harry, seriously?"

"Gimme a hint."

He rolls his eyes. "It's a condiment."

"A condiment? Like mustard?"

"Sure." He leans his head back against the pole we're handcuffed to, and I can hear him mutter about being stuck to something a little more comfortable. Hey, I'm not the biggest fan of a goddamn pole, either, but you don't hear me complaining, do you? No, you don't—you read about it.

It takes me a second or two because it just seems so obvious, I'm sure it's not right. It must be a trick question. "It's not Pepper, is it?"

"Congratulations."

"Is it really?"

"If I could clap right now, I'd give you an ovation." Instead, he jangles his handcuffs together.

"Pepper Potts. Well, that's catchy."

"I'll let her know you think so."

"You do that."

As our conversation concludes, Carl barges in and makes a beeline at us. Something near his belt glints from the light in the hallway, but I don't think it's his belt buckle. He drags me to my feet and pulls my cell phone out of his pocket.

"How'd you get that?" I ask.

"When you drove us here, dipshit," Carl tells me, punching buttons. "You can't tell me you don't remember that car ride."

I glance down slightly and manage to catch a glimpse of Tony looking up at me, a bemused smirk on his face. Carl is standing behind me, a little off to the side. He finally finds the button he wants, he hits it extra hard, then jams the phone up against my ear. I wring my hands for a few seconds, take a few glances behind me. I probably look like a spastic nutcase. As I listen to the phone ringing, a thought hits me.

"How come Tony got to talk to Pepper out there with your head honcho, and I'm stuck in here?"

Carl rolls his eyes. "Because he's Tony Stark," he answers, kicking Tony rather hard in the shin. I can hear him suppress a yelp of pain as he pulls his knee up close to his chin.

"Well, I'm Harry Lockhart."

"Nice try."

"Harry?" Oh, hey, it's Perry.

"Perry?"

"What's going on?"

At this time, Carl's forgotten that he has to put Perry on speakerphone, and he does so before I can continue. "Uh, same old, same old."

"Any chance of you coming back any time soon?"

"Doubt it. Iron Head here doesn't have any lasers or shit on him to bust us out."

I can hear Tony mutter something under his breath, and I can't help but grin. I thought it was a pretty badass burn, if I do say so myself.

"Wait, _who_?"

"Tony Stark, Per. Maybe you've heard of him? He's—"

"Stop speaking. When's the last time you've eaten?"

My eyebrows furrow together. "Uh, what?"

"The last time you've eaten, dipshit."

"Why does that make any difference?"

"Just tell me."

"I don't know. The party, I guess. Yeah, you know what, Perry? This is your fault, leaving that stupid party without me and shit, giving me that car with the goddamn goons in it, th—_Jesus_," I cut myself off as Carl knees me hard in the last place you want to be kneed.

"Oh, yeah, Harry, this is my fault, just like that dead girl in your hotel room was my fault," Perry snaps. He's in a pretty snarky mood tonight; I knew it, he can't survive without me as his assistant. "Is anyone with you? Besides Stark?"

"Yeah, why?"

"How many?"

"One," Carl answers for me.

Perry pauses. "Uh, thanks."

"What does me eating have to do with anything?" I demand.

"Nothing, now."

"What?"

"Nothing. Hey, captor," he says, addressing Carl now.

"…Yeah? What the hell do you want?" Carl growls, trying to sound tough. Carl's a pansy.

"Why'd you call me? Why are you letting Harry talk to me?"

"To let you know he's still alive."

"I got the ransom note, you know."

"This is just some added emphasis."

"Wait, ransom note?" I shout into the phone. "What ransom note? Perry?"

Carl glances at his watch. "Time's up," he says, saying good-bye to Perry before he can answer me. His hands come down hard on my shoulders, forcing me back down, and he pockets my phone again, but not before he wiggles it in the air in front of me.

I'm not too upset about him having my phone, though, like Tony was. I wait until Carl leaves before I continue my conversation with Tony. "We kind of look alike, y'know?"

Tony stares at me. "What?"

"I mean, if you didn't have that goatee, or if I did have one, we'd look pretty damn similar. Like twins, maybe."

He pauses. "I guess. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"You'll see later, if we have to do anything drastic. Can you see my hands if you turn your head all the way around?"

He looks at me warily. "Why?"

"Just do it."

He sighs, turns his head all the way around and I can hear him gasp. _You_ don't know why though, do you, fanfic readers? Any guesses, anybody? No? Okay, on with the story, then.

"You got the key?" he asks in disbelief.

I grin. "Used to be a magician."


	7. Tony and Harry

movieholic: you should definitely have him address viewers in yours, too, it's always a good time :). thanks! i love that line, it had to find its way in here somehow.

j.v. hearts13: you're welcome :) i wasn't sure at first if Iron Man was gonna be in it, but I figured out a way today to get him in there, so hopefully he'll be here soon

JerseySaint19: thanks!

aniyunwea: thanks! i'm glad you liked it so much

a/n: two words: midterms. suck. which is why this didn't come out sooner. but it's here now, so here we go!

listened to while writing this chapter: an odd mix of things. mostly it was Margot and the Nuclear So and So's, Jack Johnson, the soundtrack for Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, and the kids in my study today.

* * *

"Why didn't you say you were a magician earlier?" I demand.

Harry stares at me, perplexed. "When the hell would it have come up in conversation?"

"Any time! All those awkward silences where we didn't have anything to talk about. I told you I was Iron Man, but you didn't tell me you were a goddamn magician." I sound hurt without actually feeling that way, and hope that he doesn't pick that up.

"Oh, let's see, hmm? Iron Man and a magician. _Ex_ magician, by the way. I'm a detective now."

"Well you're doing a damn good job, then, aren't you?" I mutter.

"What?"

"Aren't detectives supposed to be observant and shit? Find doors and secret passageways?"

"Uh, _hello_," Harry trills. "I remember specifically noticing your arc reactor, and that you and me look alike. Kind of."

"Yeah, and those are gonna help us to get out of here."

"Hey, hey, hey, big guy, who's the one with the key, here?"

Oh, come on.

"Can you just unlock the handcuffs?" I ask, exasperated.

"I guess so. I can't see behind my back, though."

"Unlock mine first, then."

Harry looks genuinely offended. "How do I know you won't leave without me?"

"I promise."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because I _promise_." I sigh. "Look, we're gonna get caught if we wait any more. Just trust me, okay?"

After a few seconds, Harry decides that I'm trustworthy, and starts to figure out the best way to position his hands to get to the keyhole in my cuffs.

"Shit," he mutters.

"What?" My voice sounds more panicked than I'd like, but I don't think he noticed.

"Wait…nothing. Never mind."

"Are you almost done?"

He looks up. "Can you shine your chest over here or something? Be a flashlight."

"You can't be serious."

"If you can, I'm serious."

I twist slightly, but my hands move farther away. "No."

He sighs. "Fine. Just don't move."

There's a click, and I jerk my wrists to the front of my body, listening as the metal clacked against the floor. I'm about to get up when Harry coughs obnoxiously.

"Uh, unlock mine before you get up, por favor."

I roll my eyes, grab the key from his fingers, and unlock his handcuffs.

"Where should we go from here?" he asks.

I hold my hand out in front of me and bend my knee. "After you, Sherlock."

Harry curls his upper lip and sneers at me with fake laughter. "Let's go." He takes a step, then turns back. "Do you think there are like, guards outside?"

I pause, my mouth shifted over to one side of my face. "Nah."

"How do you know?"

"Gut feeling. And if there are, we'll get past 'em somehow."

"Y'know, it'd be really clutch if you had your suit thing right now. Then we could just blast 'em all away."

"I'll make a mental note to build a portable suit when I get back."

"Good."

Harry makes me go first. Go figure. As I grab the doorknob, I can feel my stomach start to sink. What if the door's locked? What the hell are we supposed to do then?

Stop it, Tony. Think of the positives. What if it _is _unlocked? Yeah, then there'll be guards outside. Shut up. It'll be unlocked, with no guards. You watch.

I hold my breath and turn the knob.

No guards. We're out in the hallway. It looks like we're in someone's house, like a mansion or something.

"That's convenient," Harry mutters, following me out. There are no lights on the walls, only tiny slivers that I can see under doors every so often. "What's your favorite direction—right or left?"

"Left," I answer, walking that way.

Harry watches me for a few seconds, then follows. "Let's go left."

"How do you shower with that thing?"

"What?"

Harry cocks his eyebrow and stares at me skeptically. "Come on, you're practically asking to be electrocuted with that—" he raps his knuckles against the arc reactor, "—thing sticking out of your goddamn chest."

"I manage."

"You don't shower, do you?"

"Oh, absolutely not. Because you're keeling over from my smell right now, aren't you?"

Harry pauses. "I'm good at self-restraint."

"Sure."

There's a quick silence as we make our way down the hall—it's always quick when Harry could be talking, I've come to notice—and he begins again.

"You should shave."

I freeze. "Repeat that; but this time, don't make it sound so stupid."

"Look, it's a strategy plan. Remember how I said we look alike?"

I'm not sure if I want to remember, but I do. "So?"

"So, it'll be easier for them to mess up. They won't be able to tell us apart if we get caught."

"Let's hope we don't. And we don't look _that _alike."

He nods. "Yeah. We do. You should shave."

"Why don't you grow a goatee?"

"You think I haven't tried?" he blurts out. I think he's embarrassed that my facial hair-growing skills are far superior to his. "I don't grow well under pressure," he adds quickly.

I sigh. "Even if I did agree to this, where the hell would we find a razor?"

Harry presses his hands against the wall, as if he's looking for some secret passage in an _Indiana Jones _movie. It's not too dark, but I still wouldn't be surprised if either Harry or I tripped over something. I think I'm having an easier time seeing, but that might just be because I'm the equivalent of Rudolph the Blue-Chested Superhero. Doesn't have the same ring as the traditional Rudolph, but I think it's a pretty solid start.

Suddenly Harry stumbles off to the side, and I can see a light in another room. I poke my head in the doorway he just fell into, and Harry's rifling through a medicine cabinet.

A bathroom. Fantastic.

Harry turns to me with a razor in his hands, his eyes hopeful.

"I'll leave you here," I say, trying to sound threatening.

"Don't be a baby. It'll grow back."

"How do you know?"

Harry brings his free hand down hard on the sink. "Jesus Christ, would you just shave your face? We're gonna get caught again, you're just gonna fuck us over if you keep complaining."

I take a step forward and swipe the razor out of Harry's hand. "Don't watch."

"Uh, what?"

"I don't want you looking over my shoulder."

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I dunno…go in the bathtub or something."

Harry rolls his eyes, but he still steps into the tub. He stands there staring at me, his arms folded across his chest.

"Close the curtain."

"Fucking ridiculous." He closes it, though, no matter how fucking ridiculous it might be.

* * *

A minute or two later, Tony pulls the shower curtain back, now clean shaven. I can't help it; I start clapping.

"Way to go, Tony."

"Shut up."

"I mean, seriously, that's amazing."

"Shut up."

"It takes some insane willpower to do something like that."

"Stop speaking."

"Hey, you sounded like Perry just then."

"_Who _is Perry?"

"He's my boss. I thought we went over this. Never mind, maybe you'll meet him if we ever get out of here."

"I won't lose sleep over it."

I step out of the tub and stand next to Tony, who has gone back to looking himself over in the mirror. "See, we're like twins now," I tell him.

"Fantastic," he mutters sarcastically.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something stupid. "Let's go."

As we leave the bathroom, I hear Tony say something along the lines of, "What now—should we trade clothes, too?"

I freeze. "Excuse you?"

He turns to me, his eyes wide. "What? Nothing."

"Nothing, my ass. _That_, that my friend, is fucking _genius_. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because it's genius."

I ignore this. "No, come on. That'd pull this whole thing together. They'll think I'm you, or think you're me."

"Wouldn't they notice if I had a goatee one second, and then it's off?"

"Trust me, they have bigger things to worry about. I'm sure they don't even pay that much attention."

"God, they're _kidnappers_, Harry. It's kind of their _job _to pay attention."

I wave this off. "No, fuck 'em. They're idiots. Now, come on, let's make the switch."

I hate suits. They're a disappointment to the male population of the world. They just absolutely suck. I look over at Tony, and he seems as comfortable as anyone in my shirt and jeans.

"Nice tie," he says, looking over my shoulder as I adjust said tie. "Whoever picked it out has amazing fashion sense."

"Really?" I ask, turning to the side in the mirror. "I think the colors kind of clash. It looks ugly, I think."

I have to look fast, but I think I see a tiny bit of disappointment run across Tony's face. "Pepper got that for me."

Goddamn it. "It's not that bad."

"Yeah, well, your shirt sucks."

We're about to continue our trek to the front door—or some way out, I'm not picky—when Tony jerks himself to a halt in the door frame.

"What the he—"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." He presses his ear against the door for a few seconds, then shoves me back into the bathtub. This time, though, he follows me in and yanks the curtain in front of us. He looks at me and breathes, "Someone's coming in here."

"How d—" He clamps his hand over my mouth, and just as he does so, I can hear the door creak open.


	8. Perry

JerseySaint19: thanks! i'm glad you liked the idea :)

j.v. hearts13: no problem :) haha yeah, i have fun with tony's arc reactor. so many possibilities, especially from harry's pov

movieholic: thanks! sorry it took me so long to update, hope this chapter's good/likable :)

Elwyndra: thanks! glad you liked it :)

sweetheartgrl13: thanks for both of the reviews :) glad you're liking it

a/n: ahh i'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out! gross. i'm hoping that it won't take this long for any other chapter, but thanks for waiting, everybody :)

listened to while writing this chapter: american idol and the office. what a nice combination.

* * *

It sounds like it's thundering outside, and my desire to work on this case has suddenly disappeared. I couldn't tell you why, but whenever it starts to rain or just be overall shitty outside, I get sad.

Don't tell Harry, though—he'll find some way to use it against me.

"Do you have an umbrella or something?"

Pepper eyes me warily. "No…."

"A poncho?"

"Come on." Rhodes smirks.

"Anything?"

"Why would we need any of those things, Mr. Van Shrike?" Pepper asks.

"Call me Perry," I say, waving my hand dismissively. "I call you 'Pepper,' you call me 'Perry.' It's only fair. And is it just me, or does it sound like it's gonna start storming out there any second?"

There's a pause, and Pepper's eyes widen as Rhodes covers his face with his hands. "God _damn _it," he mutters.

"What?"

They both bolt upstairs and I have no choice but to follow them, almost tripping myself up more than once. When I reach the top of the stairs, I watch them running around the living room, snapping curtains shut and yelling instructions to that computer that runs Stark's house.

"JARVIS, make sure they can't find any way inside," Pepper instructs, "they're not getting a word or a picture unless we go outside and meet them head-on."

I hold up a finger. "Uh, what the hell is exactly going on?"

Rhodes shoots me a look, trying to make me feel like a little kid he just caught listening in on a grown-up conversation. I don't take that shit. Rhodes has a lot to learn. "Tell me," I repeat, "_what _is going on."

"Just tell him, Rhodey," Pepper breathes.

Rhodes sighs. "It's the paparazzi."

I think my jaw might have just dropped more drastically than I intended. "Does this happen often?" I ask. They're working like a well-oiled machine—this must be commonplace.

"Mr. Stark usually handles it," Pepper tells me.

I lean towards the window and try to peek outside. "Are most of them women?"

"What the hell would that have to do with anything?" Rhodes snaps.

I roll my eyes. I never thought that I'd actually miss Harry asking stupid questions. "Come _on_. Everyone and their grandmother knows Stark's a playboy. That's gotta be why nothing _too _bad is ever written about him, unless it's by guys."

"Not appreciated," Pepper mutters.

"It's kinda true, Pepper," Rhodes points out.

"_Thank _you," I sigh, exasperated.

"It's a mix, Mr. Van Shrike."

I look around Stark's digs again. "Oh, what? Were you talking to me?"

"It's a mix, Perry."

"Oh. Okay, then. So, what're we supposed to do?"

"You," Rhodes points at me, "will wait here. Pepper and I will take care of this."

I scoff. "Bullshit. I'm coming out with you." Oh, hey, no pun intended. Ha, look at me, cracking all these jokes.

Pepper hesitates. "Uh, I don't know about that."

"It's not a request, Pepper."

"We're not giving you permission, Perry."

I spin quickly and point at Rhodes. "It's Van Shrike to you. And I'm going."

"No, you're not."

"Fuck yes, I am."

"Give me three reasons, _Perry_."

"Really?" Because I've got about fifteen; I could mix and match for him.

"Go."

"Okay. One: I'm the goddamn detective. Two: In case you forgot, I've got someone missing, too. Three: Let's face it. I'm a quicker thinker than both of you put together. Not to brag or anything, but you know it's true. If they hit you with an awkward question, I can come up with a decent answer like that." I snap my fingers. "Like that."

Pepper shrugs quickly. "He's got some points."

The doorbell rings. I'm surprised they're not attacking it with a battering ram.

Rhodes sighs dejectedly. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

The three of us stand in a straight line across the doorway, waiting. I glance to the side, wondering if they're expecting the first paparazzi member in line to open the door and invite them out or something. Finally, though, Pepper's hand reaches out and jerks open the door.

Immediately, we're covered in flashbulbs and microphones are jammed down our throats. Actually, I'm flattering myself: microphones were shoved down Pepper's and Rhodes' throats.

_"Ms. Potts! Have you gotten any word from Mr. Stark? Is he still alive?"_

_ "What are the kidnappers asking for in exchange?"_

_ "Colonel Rhodes! Is the U.S. military doing anything to get Mr. Stark home safely?"_

_ "Is Mr. Stark still in the country?"_

Yes, yes.

A shitload of money, I'm guessing. Does anyone know that yet?

Probably not.

Probably.

"Mr. Stark is alive," Pepper answers calmly.

"The military has not been involved in Mr. Stark's rescue as of yet," Rhodes adds.

"As far as we know, Mr. Stark is still in the United States." Pepper glances at me, then continues. "We'd also like to make the public aware of the fact that a friend of a friend—" I wave, "—is missing as well, and we have reason to believe that he's with Mr. Stark, as well."

_"Ms. Potts! When was this found out?"_

Pepper nods at me. "Recently," I say. Ooh, smooth. Good going, Van Shrike.

_"What's your name, sir?"_

"Perry Van Shrike."

_"Mr. Van Shrike! What are you doing to ensure the safe return of Tony Stark and your friend, as well?"_

"Everything we can, within reason." Damn, I'm good at this. A natural.

_"What's your friend's name?"_

"Harry. Harry Lockhart."

_"Have you ever worked for a major case like this before?"_

Uh, excuse me? "Well, not on this scale…"

"Of course he has," Rhodes interrupts hastily. "He's just being modest. He's located hundreds of missing famous people."

_"Why haven't we heard of him, then?"_

"He's up-and-coming, but he's the most reliable in the business."

They seem to lose interest in me quickly, directing questions at Pepper and Rhodes again. I rock back and forth on my heels, my hands jammed in my pockets. These things really aren't all they're cracked up to be. In a matter of minutes, Pepper's ushering us back into the house and JARVIS is making sure the paparazzi get off the premises, in one way or another.

"Well, that was fun," I say. "Let's get back on the case, shall we?"

"You weren't bad for your first time out there," Pepper acknowledges. "Was he, Rhodey?"

Rhodes pauses. "No," he answers begrudgingly. "Do we have any leads?" he asks, turning to me.

"Not exactly. That's why I suggested we go work on the case."

"Let's do that, then," Pepper says softly.

We've just made ourselves comfortable downstairs again when JARVIS' voice echoes through the house.

"You might want to see this, Ms. Potts," he suggests.

Pepper sighs. "We're in the middle of something, JARVIS. I know you miss Tony, too, and want him back."

"This is more for Mr. Van Shrike's benefit than yours."

"Really," I mutter. "What is it?"

"Go to Mr. Stark's computer, and I can show you." Of course, no one can resist something like this, so we all crowd around Stark's laptop as JARVIS loads a page. Written across CNN's website in big bold lettering is

**STARK AND "GAY" PERRY VAN SHRIKE—A MATCH MADE THROUGH KIDNAPPING?**

Pepper bites her lip and Rhodes rolls his eyes. I smirk.

Damn, the paparazzi work fast.

"Oh, I didn't tell you about that?" Jesus, they didn't know? It's pretty common knowledge, I'd think. It's a bullshit title, anyway, Stark's the straightest guy I've ever seen. Besides Hugh Hefner, maybe. But either way, Stark's a close second.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Pepper says. She sounds wiped out. This kidnapping stuff is taking a higher toll on her than anyone else, maybe even more so than Stark himself.

I think Pepper's name should replace mine in that headline.


	9. Tony!

movieholic: thanks! I'm really glad you're still liking this, and still reading it :)

leobutler: sorry it took so long for this one to come out, but hopefully it's good

soccerchick13: thanks! I'm a huge fan of Harry's POV in the movie, and I was kinda nervous about writing it, so I'm glad you think it's good :)

Elwyndra: thanks! Those couples make me happy too, so hey, maybe they'll end up like that later? And sorry about the almost two-month wait :/

Raven Aorla: I'm glad you're liking it :)

Also thanks to everyone else who put this story on their alerts/favorites!

A/N: I hate myself for making you guys wait this long. I'm a horrible procrastinator and there was some insane college drama going on and every free minute I had decided to disappear, but now it's good. So thank you guys so much for your patience, and I hope this is worth the wait!

A/N 2: This is more of a random note, but last Saturday, April 25, there was this giant event all over the world called The Rescue to help raise awareness/money and stuff for an organization called Invisible Children, which is trying to help the kids in Sudan/Africa. My school is really into this (one of the teachers actually left the school last year to work for Invisible Children full-time), so I was following it. The idea: for thousands of people to displace themselves, staying outside on a public area (Boston Common, the Mall in D.C.) until a celebrity or a mogul comes to save them. I was pretty psyched to hear that Val Kilmer went out to Washington D.C. and rescued the people there, and since this is a KKBB fanfic, I figured I'd give Val a shout-out that he'd never read. But still, kudos to you, Val, you rock :)

* * *

"Hurry up," a voice says from behind the door. "We've got stuff to do, places to be."

"I know, I know. Jesus. You can't rush nature, Brett."

Brett. Just the guy I want to run into. I glance at Harry, who's staring at the shower wall awkwardly, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He catches my gaze and after a few seconds, points to his nose. My eyes widen as I realize that he's gotta sneeze.

"No, no, no!" I mouth desperately, slicing my hand across my throat. I jerk my index finger under my nose, trying to get him to do the same.

He opens his mouth, jams it shut, and gives me a thumbs-up sign. I roll my eyes. It's amazing how long this guy—whoever he is—can take a piss. It's almost ridiculous how long he's been in here. Finally, I can hear the piss subside, and he begins to zip up his pants. He flushes the toilet and—

Harry sneezes.

I turn wildly and stare at him, my jaw hanging open. His eyes are wide and I can see him biting the inside of his cheek. I flip him off and cover my face with my hands. Maybe he didn't hear it; the toilet _was _flushing. Maybe it blended in. Maybe we're too lucky.

"Damien! What the hell, man. Are you done yet?" Brett demands, pounding on the door.

"Yeah," he says slowly, too slowly for my liking.

"Then get the fuck out here, dipshit!"

"Would you shut the fuck up? I thought I heard something."

If I look slightly to my left, I can see Harry mouthing swears to himself faster than tickets to a U2 concert sell out.

"You're an idiot, that bathroom's too small to be able to fit anyone but you."

Well, that's bullshit.

"No, I definitely heard someone."

"You didn't."

"_Yes_, I did, fuckface."

Brett sighs. "Fine, you did hear something. But that something was probably just a bug or some little piece of shit like that. Now c'mon. Lockhart and Stark have been alone for almost two hours; we're supposed to be checking up on them every hour. Whatever happened to that idea, hmm?"

There's a small crack between the wall and the shower curtain, and I can just barely catch a glimpse of Damien fixing his hair in the mirror.

"Well, why the fuck aren't you checking on them?" he demands.

"Because I'm waiting for _you_, asshole."

"What, you can't go by yourself?"

"That's not the point. It's our job to make sure they don't escape, and we do that by checking up on them _every, hour_. It's really not that hard of a concept."

Damien sighs, and suddenly I can feel a lump growing in my throat as he turns and faces the shower. I plead to myself over and over again, don't let him look, don't let him look, don't let him look.

"Well, if it ends up being something more than a spider or whatever, then it's going to come back and bite you in the ass, because I'm not covering up for you, you son of a bitch."

"See if I care." There's a dull thud, and I think Brett is now leaning against the door.

"I'm not gonna cover you if this turns out bad. It's gonna be all your fault, and guess who's gonna be out on his ass?"

"Me." Brett sounds bored now, and honestly, I'm kind of feeling that way, too.

"You," Damien answers, sounding like he didn't even hear Brett's last response. "And that's gonna suck. Ask me if I'll feel bad?"

"My God, would you just get the hell out of there?" Brett snaps.

We wait silently to hear the door click shut, waiting for permission to talk, to be able to be free. When the door does finally close behind Damien, I can hear Harry exhale deeply, almost melodramatically, and I realize that he had been waiting for permission to breathe, too.

"Je-_sus_," he mutters, running his fingers through his hair, which, now that I look at it, really does look like mine. He straightens my tie slightly—it didn't need to be straightened—and takes a fistful of the shower curtain and jerks it open. He smirks at me. "Be my guest, Lockhart."

"I'm not really you, dipshit."

He sighs. "You're right. You do a horrible job of playing me. It's ridiculously bad. I'm ashamed."

We're still standing in the bathtub, and my left leg is falling asleep. "Didn't you hear where they're going?" I ask.

"To check on us, right?"

He doesn't sound the least bit concerned. "_Riiight_, but what the hell do you think they're gonna do when they realize that we're not there?"

Harry holds up a finger, opens his mouth, then closes it soundlessly. "Let's go."

"Damn straight, let's go. Come on."

We climb out of the bathtub and slink out of the room altogether, Harry in the lead. His head darts from side to side constantly, so often that on more than one occasion, I almost smack heads with him, and then we'd be fucked. How easy would it be to find two runaway captives who are unconscious on the floor? Pretty damn easy, I'd think.

"Exit, exit, exit, any ideas?" Harry whispers.

"I don't know," I mutter, "I was kind of unconscious when they brought me here."

"Shit, me too." Harry glances at me. "Should we wing it?"

"Probably."

"Okay."

We keep walking. We're like stealth fighters, like Neo from _The Matrix_. That son of a bitch thinks he's a superhero. Hah.

After a few minutes we come to some double doors that look promising. Unfortunately, they also look like they require a fingerprint to open. No fear, though! They're dealing with Iron Man and New Yorker; they're in a lot of trouble.

"Can you do that trick with the makeup?" I ask.

"What trick?"

"The one where you put powder on the scanner and put your finger over it. It confuses the system and makes it think you're not a captive."

Harry furrows his brow and stares at me. "I've never heard of that."

"You're shitting me."

He shakes his head.

"You're a private detective and you don't _know _that trick?"

He holds up a finger. "I'm still in training. Perry probably knows about it."

"Tell Perry to teach it to you, first thing when you get home."

He nods that he will, but I think he's lying.

"So what're we gonna do if we don't have…powder?" Harry wants to know.

My mouth shifts slightly as I wonder the same thing. "Maybe we should try another door."

"Why don't we just use this one?"

I turn sharply on my heel and stare Harry down. "Uh, okay, we're about ten minutes—tops—from freedom, and I don't know about you, but I'm a fan of getting out of here alive. If we scan the wrong fingerprint or something, how do we know they won't taser us or something?"

"_Taser _us? Who?" Harry spreads his arms out wide, showing me the obvious: that no one else is around us.

"You never know." Jesus, my nerves have been shot ever since everything with Obie. Damn it.

"You and your tasering bullshit," Harry mutters, leaning against the door. He flinches slightly, and all of a sudden, the hallway goes dark, all except for a tiny square of light—the fingerprint scanner. "_Fuck_," he breathes.

"What the hell was that?" I hiss.

"How am I supposed to know?" I grit my teeth and grab his elbow, jerking it away from the scanner. As I do so, I can feel my stomach start to sink. That wasn't just a fingerprint scanner; you could scan any of your shit on there, and Harry just decided to scan the tip of his elbow by leaning against it. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Your elbow, dipshit, it was your elbow!"

"What?"

"Forget it—" I turn and can hear footsteps coming from a few hallways back. "We've gotta go, find another door." I shove Harry forward, and he stumbles, regains his balance, and starts to haul ass.

"What door?" Harry asks frantically. "What door, what door, what door?"

"Pick one!" I yelp.

"_What _one?"

"This one!" I jam Harry up against the closest door to us, and we collapse inside as the door gives way under us. Once we're both inside, Harry scrambles to his feet and slams the door shut, breathing fast. He turns to me, his eyes wide.

"Now what?"

"We have to find a way out." I feel like I'm stating the obvious, but now isn't the time to chew Harry out for that. The room's dark and cramped, but I can still see a faint blue glow bouncing off of Harry's cheekbones.

"Is someone behind me?" I whisper.

Harry's head cocks to one side, bemused. "No, why?"

"There's a light, like a flashlight or something, on you."

Harry smirks. "That's your chest, dipshit."

I glance down at the arc reactor and cover each side of my nose with my hands, so that my mouth is covered too and my thumbs run along my jawline. That was descriptive, huh?

"How the hell am I supposed to hide this?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno. I mean, you _are _Tony Stark and everything; I thought you might've already had this covered."

"Shut up. I had it covered with the stuff I actually wore here," I answer, pointing to the suit and tie Harry was currently sporting. "It's not my fault your shirts are so goddamn thin."

"Okay, okay. It's not that bright, Tony. Forget about it."

"Are we in a closet?"

Harry shrugs. "We're not out of the building, so I really don't give a fuck where we are."

I face the back wall and start moving the boxes stacked everywhere. There's gotta be some kind of exit somewhere, a vent, a secret passageway, anything we could reasonably fit through. We can't keep looking for the real exit; we've gotta deal with what's here.

"Help me?" I ask Harry, who's still standing up against the door. I straighten as I hear voices coming from the other side of the door, and said voices sound pissed. Harry doesn't move.

"Harry," I repeat. "Help me move these."

"Kinda scared here, Tony."

"The sooner we move these boxes, the sooner we can get outside…the sooner you don't have to be scared anymore. There's, uh, there's nothing to be scared of." I feel awkward saying this, stumbling over a few words. I know it's a lie—we've got loads of shit to be scared of—but I can't let Harry know that. I've never really talked much with kids, but I think that, if I had, my voice would've sounded like it did just then. Pepper has a brother, doesn't she? With kids? Have him come over sometime; we can babysit.

Harry finally manages to nod slowly, and takes a step toward me. Suddenly, there's a crash as the door is thrown open and an explosion of light invades the room. I've unconsciously made a fort of boxes around me while moving them, and I squint as I see Harry mouth "Fuck, fuck, fuck" over and over. Someone grabs his arms and pins them behind his back, and he yelps in pain. They jerk him around to face them, and their eyes light up.

"It's Stark! No, we got Stark!"

My jaw drops, and so does Harry's.

"No, I—fuck!" Harry yells.

He's not me. He's Lockhart. I'm Stark. Why would they think—

The clothes. Shit, it's the clothes.

"Who cares about Lockhart? Get Stark out of there!"

This is when Harry's instincts start to kick in. He starts thrashing and manages to free one of his arms, eventually jerking the other one away, as well. His eyes are locked with mine, and he makes an attempt to grab at something to hold himself steady. Instead, there's a sickening crack and I flinch as I watch his chin hit the floor hard. Someone had grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him back toward the door.

"Is there anyone else in there?" I recognize this voice as Brett's, and I want to kick him in the face.

"There's no room for anyone else; he and Lockhart must have split up."

"So Lockhart's still running around?"

"Somewhere. We'll find him later. Get Stark locked down first," Brett orders. "Go."

They pull Harry to his feet out in the hallway, only to have Damien punch him a few times hard in the stomach. Harry doubles over in pain, and as he does so, a new guy I've never seen before presses a rag to his face and holds it there until Harry goes limp entirely.

"Send out a search team for Lockhart," Brett tells another guy, who scampers away.

The group begins walking away, leaving the door ajar. I glance cautiously outside, and as I do so, I realize that my hand was over my arc reactor the whole time. I didn't want to get caught. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip. I'm a superhero, but I didn't want to get caught. I let Harry take the rap just now, but I'm the one with the money, the fame, the power.

All of that might have just fucked Harry over.

I drag myself unwillingly to my feet. I've gotta do something. I've gotta get home.

* * *


	10. Harry and Pepper

movieholic: thanks again :)

sweetheartgrl13: thanks! i think i decided on the matrix comparison because of some interview i saw with rdj about how he would've loved to have been able to play neo haha

Elwyndra: thanks! and college stuff is DONE, so i have massive amounts of free time to write this little guy

JinxedFairy: thanks for all the reviews! i'm glad you like it :)

Also thanks to everyone else who put this story on their alerts/favorites!

**A/N: Okay. College stuff is over and done, I've graduated from high school (!!!yikes!!!), and therefore now have tons of time for this little guy. I'm psyched about this, and I hope it still lives up to you guys' expectations, because you're awesome. But you already knew that, so I'm just beating a dead horse here. But anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

_"From now on, ask my permission before you bang one of my assistants."_

_"How'd you know that?"_

_"'Cause I know all, and I could have told you that this would end badly. Now I gotta fire her so you don't feel weird."_

_"No, don't fire her."_

_"All right. Well, I'll just sexually harass her until she quits."_

I'm really not sure if I want to open my eyes right now. Actually, I'm not sure that I could even if I wanted to. My neck feels like it's going to snap under the pressure of my suddenly fifty-pound head, and I wish Tony and I hadn't switched clothes.

That would've made things a lot goddamn easier.

"I love this show," someone mutters, and I can hear him sucking a drink through a straw. "It's so great."

"Ari's such a fuckup," another says, contributing majorly to the conversation with said comment.

"But he's _hysterical_."

"…yeah, he is."

I finally decide to open my eyes, just a little. Just a tiny, little bit. I hate having my eyes closed when I'm awake; I always feel like someone's sneaking up behind me, getting ready to scare me shitless. Of course, as Perry would say, "That's the least of your fucking problems, Harry."

My eyelids flutter open and I can see our bathroom buddy, his face practically smashed up against the TV screen. They're watching _Entourage_, a show Perry loves—Lloyd's his favorite character—and watches every Sunday. I've been trying to get into it, but it's hard to do so in the middle of the fourth season.

Suddenly, Brett's invading my eye line, and he smiles at me. "Feeling better, sunshine?" he asks sweetly. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pretend that they were never open.

I always sucked at pretending.

Brett slaps me across the cheek, and I swear to God, if my hands weren't incapacitated at that moment, I would've bashed his brains out…or at least smacked him back. He laughs without humor and sits down in front of me.

"You're always surprising us, Tony. We always thought you'd be the hardest to get, _always_, ever since the beginning. But it's always been Harry that we can't keep track of. Do you think it's because he's better than you? A detective-in-training is better than Iron Man? _Iron Man_, for God's sake."

I grin smugly. "Maybe Harry _is _better than me." What? I couldn't resist, the opportunity was right there. If I didn't take it, well, then I'd be an asshole. Actually, I might be an asshole because I said it. But it's been said, so I don't care.

Brett doesn't know what to think about this. "You're actually admitting that?"

"It's just a suggestion."

"Well, could you suggest a place where he might have gone?"

"Who?"

"Harry."

I pause, biting the inside of my cheek. "I…'m not sure. I mean, he's better than me, so he'd know all the better hiding spots and escape routes. I was just the accomplice."

He tilts his head to look at me. "Really?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Well…yeah."

"It usually is."

"What the hell's he talking about?" Damien's attention is finally drawn from _Entourage _to us.

"He says Lockhart's better than him."

"Really?"

"That's what he says."

"So did we catch the wrong guy?"

"No, this is Stark. No matter how much better Lockhart is, Stark's still worth more money, so it evens out."

Damien nods. "Cool."

Yeah. Cool. Fucking fantastic.

* * *

I can't even deal with that headline right now. I can't deal with anything—the paparazzi, interviews, articles, Perry, Rhodey, absolutely nothing. I wonder if Tony even wants to get home. He didn't seem that upset when I talked to him…

…but he could've been drugged or something. What if they're torturing him? What if I never see him again? What if I never get to tell him?

"Tell him what, Pepper?"

I gasp and whirl around. Perry's standing behind me, sipping a soda.

"W-was I talking out loud?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Oh, my God. Where's Rhodes?"

"He left. About ten minutes ago. Told me to tell you to have a good night, and to call him if you need anything."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you leaving?"

He chuckles humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm gonna go home to an empty apartment when my…my best friend…is missing. Sounds fun."

"Us abandoned friends should stick together."

"Of course. And since this place is obviously nicer than mine, I suggest a sleepover. I'll take the couch."

I laugh for the first time in what feels like years. "Hey, um, you're not gonna tell anyone about that…talking to myself thing, are you?"

He sighs and sets down his soda—on a coaster, which impresses me, I can't help it. Tony _never _puts anything on a coaster, no matter how many times I ask him. "Relax. I'm not gonna tell anyone. I mean, honestly, I think everyone already knows what you're about to tell me."

I can't help but cop an attitude. "If you know what it is, then why don't _you _tell _me_?"

"You've got the hots for Tony Stark," he tells me simply.

I can feel my cheeks redden within seconds, and I look down at the floor. "You could've phrased that better," I tell him softly.

He clears his throat. "You're in love with Tony Stark. Better?"

"I guess."

He smirks. "Well, that's cute."

"Don't tell anyone, Perry, please."

He rolls his eyes and picks up his soda. "I toldja, people already know this. They're just waiting for you two to make it official. It's been tabloid fodder for days now. I don't know where you've been if you haven't seen it. When are you gonna make it official, by the way?"

"I—"

"Are you making up this elaborate scheme, an awesome proposal thing right when Tony's rescued? Is that it?"

"What—?"

"Because if that's the plan, I sure as hell hope Harry and I are invited. Oh, and I expect invites to the wedding, too."

"Pe—"

"A Stark wedding must kick the asses of any other wedding on the planet, right? Definitely. The best beer, the best food, the best music, the best gift bags; what else can a guy ask for?"

"Perry."

"What?"

"Tony doesn't know."

He nods, then looks at me. "What?"

"He doesn't know that I love him."

"Well, uh, that's something you should probably get on."

"Come _on_, Perry. There are more important things that need to get done at the moment. We don't need to worry about my love life." I look up and stare at him. "Do we have any other leads?"

"Working on it."

"I thought you were the best in California?"

"I can't just snap my fingers and have a case be solved, Pepper."

"How long has it been? A week? You could've snapped your fingers thousands of times by now; this case should be solved."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where the hell is this coming from?"

I could ask myself the same thing.

"I'm sorry…I, I guess I just miss him."

Perry sets down his soda—on the coaster again; what a gentleman—and drapes his arm around my shoulders.

"Understandable. It must get pretty lonely in here at night without him."

"I have my own house, Mr. Van Shrike," I tell him stiffly.

He smirks. "Are we gonna have to go through this again? Perry. That's my name; don't be afraid to use it."

"I have my own house, Perry."

"Good. And, pertaining to that, if you have your own house, why did I see a pile of your clothes when I came in?"

Shit. I thought I told JARVIS to hide that.

"Those are…old," I answer lamely. He's an idiot if he actually believes that.

Perry laughs and smiles wryly at me. "They pay me to be observant, Miss Potts."

"JARVIS was lonely."

"JARVIS is a fucking robot."

"I beg your pardon." Tony's invention's robotic voice cuts sharply through our conversation.

"What?"

"JARVIS doesn't like when you swear," I tell him. "Tony tries not to."

"I bet he wouldn't yell at Tony if he swore," Perry mutters. He sounds like a five-year-old, and the slight respect I gained for him putting his drink on a coaster is now gone.

"I would, and I do," JARVIS interrupts.

"Can we have a private conversation, please?" Perry asks exasperatedly. "Is that too much to ask?"

I stand up shakily and take Perry's hand. "Let's go outside."

"It's raining."

"We'll stand under the overhang. Or would you rather be stuck in here with JARVIS? No offense, JARVIS," I add quickly.

"None taken, Miss Potts."

Perry pauses, then: "Outside it is."

We climb the stairs silently and make our way across the living room floor. As we pass the couch and the area rug, I decide to kick off my heels. I've been wearing them for the last, what, fifteen hours? I need a break. Perry watches as I toss them across the room and nods.

"Not feeling the heels anymore?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh." Another minute of silence, then he continues with, "Hey, did I piss you off earlier? If I did, I'm sorry, I didn't think pointing out your clothes would have that kind of an effect on you."

I shrug. "I think I just overreacted. It's just, there's been so much stress lately and—"

"No, I got it. It's understandable."

I nod slowly. "I do live here, at least right now. It makes me feel like he might come home sometime soon." I just made Tony sound like a dog. He's like Shadow from that old movie _Homeward Bound_.

No, he's more like Chance.

I flick on the porch light as we sit down on the steps. It's drizzling and kind of windy, but I'm in no mood to go back inside and get my jacket.

"He'll come back."

"How do you know?"

"Because we'll find him."

"What if we can't?"

"We will."

"How do you know?"

"Because you've got…one: Perry Van Shrike on your side, and two: Rhodes, who's some kind of military guy, right?"

"Right."

"So it's gonna be fine. It's just taking more time than we'd like."

I crack a small smile, hoping that he doesn't notice. I think he does, though, because I can see him grin, too.

"Thank you, Perry."

He glances at me. "You're welcome, Pepper."

We sit there silently for a few minutes, but the silence is heavy, and it feels like enough. We don't need to talk anymore because that silence is there. It's almost like an understanding. We both feel the same way—at least I think we do—and it's reassuring to me. I hope it is to him, too.

His neck cranes forward a little, and I can see him squinting. "What the fuck…?" he mutters slowly.

"What?"

"Do you see that?" He points far down the driveway, and I'm amazed that he can even see that far.

"Uh, no."

"Wait, wait until it gets closer…now. Can you see it?" He points again.

There's a blurry figure standing, that much I can tell. It's too tall to be an animal, but I don't want to think of it as anything else. If it's a robber, I honestly might just let him take anything he wants; Tony can replace them if—when, not if—he comes home.

"Yeah," I answer. "What is it?"

"I can't tell. Do you have a flashlight or anything?"

"In Tony's shop."

"Forget it. We're just going to wait for it." He gets to his feet and gently pulls me to mine as well. We stare at this thing, and I wonder why I'm not scared. Sure, I've got that default nervous feeling in my stomach, but I'm not about to run away crying. Maybe it's because of Perry, maybe it's because it's 2:00 in the morning, maybe it's because I don't care. Nothing that's standing in Tony's driveway could be as bad as what's going on right now, and I know it.

I can hear Perry gasp as the thing gets closer; apparently he's got much better eyesight than me.

"What?"

He opens his mouth, shakes his head, then closes it.

"Perry."

He shakes his head again.

"Perry," I repeat monotonously.

"Holy shit."

"What, Perry?"

Suddenly, he grabs me by the shoulders and makes me face the thing, which is now merely feet from us. "Look."

I look.

I gasp.

Standing in the driveway, soaking wet, ripped clothes, shivering,looking like an absolute wreck, is Tony Stark.

I'm passed out in Perry's arms before I can say a word.

* * *


	11. Tony & Harry

Elwyndra: thanks! glad you're liking it, and i'm hopefully not gonna take that long for chapter updates now, here's hoping

JinxedFairy: thanks! and yeah, hopefully they can save Harry, asap :)

Raven Aorla: thanks! i'm glad you're liking it

Also thanks to everyone else who put this story on their alerts/favorites!

haven't done this in a while, but...**listened to while writing the (end of this) chapter!: **streetlight manifestoooo

* * *

This wasn't the welcome I was expecting, to say the least.

The guy Pepper's suddenly decided to collapse into is staring at me, shifting his weight to keep her stable. His eyes are wide; I think he's surprised to see me.

An affair, maybe?

Shit, if Pepper's been—

"Tony Stark, I'm guessing," he says, slowly resting Pepper down on the porch.

"What's it to you?" I sound more defensive than I might like. All I want is to get down to my workshop and kick this plan into gear.

Oh, and maybe get Pepper an icepack or something, too. I can't deal with her secret lover at the moment, but apparently he wants to deal with me.

He takes a few steps forward and sticks out his hand. "Perry Van Shrike. I was hired to, uh, find you. But I guess that's been taken care of."

"Perry Van Shrike? As in, the Perry that Harry always talked about?"

He raises his eyebrows, and I'm guessing that I've got the right Perry.

"Yeah…"

I point slowly at him, then my finger wavers and twirls, and I trace some weird shape in the air. "You need to teach him more detective shit."

I don't think he's surprised. "Speaking of Harry, where the fuck is he?"

I bite my lip, and I'm guessing that's enough of an answer for him.

"Did they kill him?"

"What? Jesus, no. I don't think they're gonna do anything to him, actually." I glance down awkwardly at Pepper, who's still splayed across the porch, but not getting wet, so that's good.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Stark?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time."

I sigh. "They…kindofthinkthatHarry'sme."

He stares at me. "They think he's _you_? Why in pluperfect hell would they think _he _was _you_?"

I shrug. "Apparently we look alike."

Perry eyes me slowly, and I can tell that he thinks the same thing; he just doesn't want to admit it.

"How did you convince them that he was you? He's not exactly superhero material."

I rock back and forth on my heels, mulling this over, until I decide that I'm too damn cold, tired, and hungry to stay out here. With that, I grab Pepper's legs and motion for Perry to grab her arms.

"Tell you inside," I say, mouthing to three, then picking up my assistant.

I give Perry directions to my room so that we can drop Pepper off until she comes to. He trips over the stairs at least three times, and I can't tell if it's because he's walking backwards or if he's drunk. Maybe both?

I could use a drink right now.

"D'you drink, Van Shrike?"

"I do, Stark."

"D'you want to drink, Van Shrike?"

"I do, Stark."

"Okay, then."

I leave him upstairs with Pepper—not the best move on my part, I still don't know if they're having an affair or shit—and grab a bottle of vodka, two shot glasses, and make my way back up to my room. Perry's looking around, his hands behind his back. Not too suspicious. He notices that I've returned and faces me.

"So," he says softly, "how was it?"

"How was what?" I ask, gulping down my first shot. I do a double take and glance at Perry, suddenly remembering the last time I drank. "Nobody's touched this, right?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. How was what?"

"Being…" He struggles for the right words, and maybe it's the alcohol, but I'm enjoying watching him squirm. I'm out of my mind. "…a captive."

"Fantastic."

"I couldn't go to a single channel without seeing your face at least once," he tells me.

"Really," I answer, not bothering to act flattered.

"It got pretty fucking annoying."

"That has a tendency to happen."

"They didn't even mention Harry."

He tells me this in mid-drink, and I start coughing. "They didn't?"

"No. I mean, what the hell did you expect? He's not some superstar exec or anything like that. He's not even close to your status."

"Well, _yeah_, but I would've thought that they—"

Perry rolls his eyes and downs his own shot. "Come on. You're Tony Stark, the multimillionaire playboy superhero; you think they're gonna pay attention to a detective's assistant?"

I shrug. "I thought they might've. They treated him as if he were as important as me."

"That's not the way the outside world sees it."

"Obviously."

He holds his glass out for me to pour into, and I hand him the bottle. He takes it begrudgingly and fills the glass, but he keeps the bottle next to him. Bastard.

"You just made my job a hell of a lot easier, Stark."

"Did I, now?"

"I don't have to look for you, and you must know where Harry is, right?"

I swish the vodka around in my mouth, making a big deal of puffing out my cheeks while doing so. "I think so."

"So we can go in and get him, put these guys in jail, and go on with our lives."

I smirk and shake my head. "Nah, Van Shrike. That's not the way I'm handling this."

"_You're _handling it?"

"I've got some bad blood with them."

"Do you even know who the fuck they are?"

I shrug. "Does it really matter?"

"Uh, yeah. Just a little bit, you know?"

"No it doesn't. You can figure out who they are after I'm done with them."

"What exactly are you planning on doing?"

I stare at him and grin. "I'm Iron Man."

He smacks himself in the forehead. "Oh yeah, forgot. Sorry," he says sarcastically. "Seriously, Stark, you can't do this on your own."

"Give me one reason why not."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that people who plan to kidnap a superhero are actually prepared to deal with them and all their powers?"

"They weren't prepared to deal with shit," I scoff.

"They might be now."

"Why? They think they still have me."

"I doubt Harry's gonna keep that a secret for long."

I roll my eyes and swallow one last shot. "He will."

* * *

"You know what I want to do?" Brett asks, breathing in my face. He smells like onions, maybe a Philly cheese steak. I try not to gag, but it's hard to hold everything in. I do, though, because I've just got that much skill. Perry eats a lot of shit, so I'm used to it.

"What?" I ask, wishing my hands weren't tied behind me. I've had this bastard of an itch on my cheekbone for at least fifteen minutes, but I can't reach the fucking thing no matter how hard I try. I shift my mouth around, try biting the inside of my cheek, but nothing works, and I'm not about to ask this fuck-up for help.

Funny. I'm calling _him _the fuck-up, and yet I'm the hostage. Great.

"I want to get that Pepper Potts in here," he breathes. "And I want her clothes off. And I want to have sex with her. And I want to do it all right in front of you."

I stare at him. I don't know what he's expecting here.

"I, uh—"

"Shut up. And you know what else? She's gonna _like _it. I'm gonna show her the time of her life, and she's never gonna want to go back to your damn mansion and your prissy lifestyle, and she's never gonna want to go back with you."

My jaw goes slack. "We're not together, sweet cheeks. Sorry to burst your bubble."

Brett stares at me, and I think I've pissed him off. Good; Perry would be proud.

"You're supposed to be pissed off." He points accusingly at me. "Why the hell aren't you pissed? Why aren't you trying to strangle me right now?"

"Why the hell would I want to strangle…shit."

Brett's jaw drops. "_Fuck _me." He takes a step forward and smacks me across the face again.

"Aw, come on!" I moan. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You're not Stark, are you? Damn it, you're Lockhart, aren't you?"

I furrow my eyebrows and try to cover up my stupidity. Yeah, yeah, I'll admit it, and if any of you ever see Perry, let him know that I took the blame for this shit. It was my fault. "Why would you think that?"

"I've _seen _the way you react when I talk about your girl, and this ain't it."

"I just regained consciousness after being beaten up and knocked out for what, seven or eight hours? Give me some time to regroup, asshole, and I'll give you the reaction you want."

He skips the smacking and punches me instead. "Don't gimme that shit."

"If you don't want it, don't take it. But I'm telling you the truth."

"Damien!"

"What?"

Oh, we have to bring him in now?

"Is he Stark?"

"What're you talking about? Of course he's Stark. Who else would he be?"

"Lockhart, you dumbass."

Damien stares hard at me, and I grin. Brett punches me in the stomach, and I'm back to gasping. Finally, he shakes his head. "No, I don't think he's Lockhart."

"What? How is he _not _Lockhart? I just talked about his assistant, and he didn't care. That's _not _something Stark would let slide."

"Maybe it's the shit we drugged him with."

I glance at Brett and stick out my tongue. "Told you."

"Shut up." He stares at me and crinkles his nose; I match him step for step. "You're not Stark."

I roll my eyes and try to act bored. "Y'know what? I don't even know what to say to you anymore. I know that I'm me, and that's good enough for me."

"It's good enough for me, too," Damien pipes up.

"_Thank _you."

"You're a piece of shit, Damien," Brett tells him.

"No, I'm just not crazy."

Brett scrutinizes me again. "Stark had a goatee before."

Fuck.

"No, he didn't," Damien insists.

"_Yeah_, he did."

"Nope."

"How the fuck would you know, Damien? You just saw him today."

"I just don't think he did."

Brett swears under his breath, and then a grin that makes me feel uncomfortable sneaks onto his face.

"Unbutton his shirt."

"What?" Damien and I ask at the same time.

"You heard me. Unbutton his goddamn shirt."

Damien glances at me, shrugs, and reaches for the top button.

"H-hey," I say shakily, making an attempt to twist away from his fingers. "Uh, I mean, this isn't nec—fuck." He's gotten to my chest, which is devoid of glowing blue circles. I glance up hesitantly at Brett without lifting my head. He squats down until he's eye-level with me, then grins tiredly.

"You know what, Lockhart?"

I look at him. If he thinks I'm gonna answer, then he's fucking insane.

He doesn't wait. "I fucking hate you." His fist connects with my face, and everything's black again.

* * *

Perry shakes his head. "You don't know him like I do. He won't."

"Have a little faith, huh?"

"Harry doesn't deserve faith."

"Kind of harsh."

"Just a tad. But honestly, I bet he's already blown his cover."

I take one last swig of vodka and stand shakily. "We'd better get moving, then, huh?"

"What about Potts?"

I glance down at my assistant, who's still curled up on my bed. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early in the morning, depending on how you want to look at it."

"Do you think she'll just wake up on her own?"

Perry shrugs. "Aren't you the super genius?"

"Hey, thanks. Did she pass out from being scared, or happy?"

"I didn't have time to ask before she collapsed."

I chuckle without humor. "No, seriously. Was she worried about me?"

His face softens, and he grins a little. "She was a wreck."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's why we were out there in the first place; it was kind of like she was missing part of herself."

Wow. Wasn't expecting that. "That sounds like something out of a Hallmark card."

"It's the truth, Stark."

I let out a low whistle. "How about that."

"Do you have any of those—" he snaps his fingers, "—smelling salt things?"

I grab the vodka bottle, open it, and sit down next to Pepper's head. I cup my hand under her hair—it's softer than I expected—and lift her head up slightly so that I have enough room to put the bottle under her nose. After a few seconds of inhaling, she coughs.

Perry's eyebrows are arched in surprise. "Damn. Good stuff."

"No need to thank me."

Pepper moans a little bit and tries to sit up on her own, but she ends up falling back onto the bed, crushing my hand in the process. I bite my tongue and wiggle my fingers around slightly under her hair.

"Perry, what happened?" she asks, looking at Van Shrike.

Affair! I knew it! That son of a bitch.

I glare at Perry, who rolls his eyes and smirks. "Pepper, I think you've got more important people to talk to."

"What? What're you talking about?" she slurs.

"You feel something under your head?"

Her hand reaches back and her fingers trace their way along my wrist. I look over at Perry, who's got the biggest grin plastered across his face.

"Isn't that your hand?" she asks. Perry holds up both of his, and she gasps. Suddenly, her fingers lock around my wrist and she yanks me down hard. Goddamn. My head hits her chest, and I'm tempted to jump back up so that she can't sue me for sexual harassment, but I don't. I've got a witness here who—I'm pretty sure—will side with me, and plus, I've always wanted this. This isn't _exactly _how I pictured it, but it's close enough.

"_Tony!_" she wails.

I grin at her. "Hey, Potts."

"Oh, my God, Tony, you're alive! What did they do to you? Where were you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where's that other guy you were with? How did you get away? Are they chasing after you?"

Shit. Hmm, where to start.

"I am. Shit. I don't know. I think so. Somewhat. Still there. Ran. Probably."

Perry sniggers into his vodka. I thought he finished the drink earlier, but apparently I'm not too observant.

"I missed you," she tells me softly.

"I missed you, too, Potts." I haven't moved since she dragged me down here, and she hasn't tried to move me. We stay there for a minute or two until Perry coughs.

"God, I forgot you were here," I mutter.

"Sorry to bust in on this, but I've still got someone missing in action here."

Pepper nods and starts to sit up, nudging my head off of her. I try not to look as disappointed as I feel, but I'm not sure how successful I am.

"But then again," Perry continues, "it _is _what, three in the morning? Somewhere around there." With that, he walks to the door. "You don't mind if I take the couch, do you, Tony?"

I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out, so I just shake my head.

"Great. Well, see you two in the morning." He leaves, closing the door behind him.

I look at Pepper, but she's not looking at me. After an awkward minute, she stands. "I'm really glad you're back, Tony." She touches her fingers to her lips, then places them on the top of my head. She flashes that trademark Pepper Potts smile and starts to make her way toward the guest room.

"Yeah," I finally manage to get out. "Me, too."

I wait for Pepper to close the door, and I collapse onto my bed. I forgot how nice sheets felt. I tuck my hands under my head and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, wondering whether or not what Pepper just gave me was a kiss. Right before I fall asleep, I make my decision.

It wasn't completely what I was hoping for, but hell, it was pretty damn close. It's a start.

* * *


	12. Perry and Tony

Raven Aorla: thanks! and Stark making a fool of himself is always a possibility :)

JinxedFairy: thanks! yeah haha i guess Tony's never heard of Gay Perry...but he will. that sounds so evil, but i didn't mean for it to haha

movieholic: thanks again! glad you're still liking it

Also thanks to everyone else who put this story on their alerts/favorites!

**A/N: it's official. i fail at life. ten million apologies for the lack of updates :(**

* * *

Well, what a cute couple they are.

I manage to get downstairs without tripping over anything or having JARVIS freak out, so that's a plus. Maybe JARVIS is programmed like a dog; once he's used to you, he won't bother barking at you anymore.

I wonder if that little fucker sleeps.

I kick off my shoes and make myself comfortable on Stark's couch, a nice leather ensemble with a giant flat screen TV embedded in the wall across from it. I grab the remote and start flipping aimlessly through the channels. Infomercial, sports highlights, infomercial, some shit about Paris Hilton, public access…Jesus, you'd think Stark's TV would've had better offerings than _this _trash. I guess I got my hopes up.

My eyes feel heavy, but I don't feel tired. A little contradictory, there, but it's the truth. I stifle a yawn as I continue to search for something decent to zone out to, my mind starting to wander. I wonder if Stark ditched Harry on his way here. Was their escape flashy? A barrage of bullets that just barely missed them, maybe? If so, maybe one of those bullets hit Harry, in the shoulder, and he had to be left behind. Stark had to leave him to fend for himself in the Malibu wilderness. He had to get back here to his kickass house, his Pepper Potts.

That fucker. Harry can't survive shit without someone else. He should know that by now.

I can't believe him, just sleeping all nice and peaceful in his pussy bed. Why isn't he doing anything to help Harry? I mean, what the hell? Isn't he a goddamn _superhero_? Or does he just use that title, minus all the actual saving? Unless it's a girl, of course; if it's a chick, Iron Man's on the case.

I mentally slap myself. Come on, idiot, you're going insane. Stark already explained everything to you; why the hell would he lie about that shit? Because he's a dick. No, he didn't seem that bad, I think it's just publicity. Wait until the alcohol wears off. Hmm, I—

Almost fall off the couch as my phone vibrates in my pocket. It only vibrated once, a new text message. Thing is, no one sends me text messages. Ever. I'm gonna get charged. This bastard better have a good reason to send me some shit, or I'm gonna be pissed.

I flip the phone open and almost immediately drop it before I get a chance to read the damn thing. Why?

NEW TEXT FROM HARRY

I hit the OKAY button faster than I ever have in my life, and a picture begins to load on the screen. My eyebrows furrow together as I watch a pixilated Harry materialize in front of me. He's sitting in a chair—one that doesn't look too comfortable—with his hands tied behind his back, his head lolled to one side. His left cheekbone is bruised, and I think he might have been bleeding; they probably cleaned it up earlier. I want to throw the fucking thing against the wall for being so slow, but I wait it out until the whole message has loaded. It's kind of anticlimactic, and doesn't give me any information that I want; no location, no names, nothing. Just:

HE'S NOT SLEEPING

My heart sinks. That's right, assholes, I'm not afraid to admit it, my heart sank when I read that, because the first thing I think is that Harry is dead. They killed him, and now they're just taunting me. It's because he outsmarted them. I honestly never thought I'd say that Harry outsmarted _anyone_, but here we are. I let my phone clatter to the floor and press the heels of my palms against my forehead. I don't know where to go from here. I don't know if I should wake Stark up, I don't know if he'd even give a shit. I wonder if I should—or even if I could—cry. Harry would probably be laughing his ass off if he could see me now. I'm about to make a decision on my next move when my phone starts vibrating again. I glance down at the piece of shit, not in the mood to talk to anyone or read anymore texts, but I have to. Fine, I don't actually _have _to, but I don't like missing things. So sue me.

It's a phone call.

"Hello."

"Perry? Perry Van Shrike?"

"Speaking." Before whoever's on the other line can respond, I take a second to tilt the phone more into my eyeline so I can read the contact. Harry. But it's definitely not Harry I'm talking to now.

"Did you get our last message?"

I chew thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek. "What the fuck do you assholes want?"

He clucks his tongue. That little fucker actually has the nerve to cluck his fucking tongue at me. That little prick. "That's not gonna help you get your pal back."

"You guys are the most irresponsible, unorganized kidnappers I've ever had to deal with."

There's silence on the other line for a few seconds, then Dipshit comes back. "Bullshit," he falters. "We're…we're one of the best in the business. We're professionals." He sounds hurt. Fucking, he actually sounds hurt. I roll with this.

"Oh, sorry, sweetheart, did I offend you?"

"Well, I mean, I'd appreciate it—and I know we'd _all_ appreciate it—if you actually took the time to look into whoever it is that you're trying to badmouth, in this case it's us…"

_We_? How many fucking people am I talking to here?

I sigh. "Listen, moron, is Harry alive or not? That's all I want to know here. I couldn't care less if you fuckers are offended or insulted or whatever the fuck you want to be. Is my assistant dead or not?"

There's a pause, and then I can hear Harry moan and mutter something about his head.

"P…Perry?" he asks shakily.

"You're not dead, Harry."

"Yeah, I'm aware. Is Tony with you?"

"Why?"

"'Cause these assholes sure as shit know that I'm not him." I can hear skin on skin and Harry yelps again. "So it'd be nice to know that he's okay, I guess."

"He's sleeping. So I'm guessing he's fine."

"Well isn't that nice."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to know."

"I know, I know. Are you gonna save me, Per?"

I stare at my phone for a few seconds, unsure of how to reply to this. "I'm not gonna leave you with those fuck-ups."

"So you're gonna save me?"

"In so many words."

"O—fuck!" Harry's voice is cut off once again, and Dipshit's back on the line.

"We'd like to see you try." He hangs up.

* * *

Okay, forget this. I can't sleep right now. I've tried, trust me, but there's just some kind of high running through me right now, and it sucks. I'm not even sure if I remember where the place is, the place Harry and I were. Perry's not gonna be too happy to hear that, so I should probably get on figuring that out before he wakes up.

I need a drink, and I decide for once that I should at least try and act responsible. I'll get water; no alcohol. Water, water, water. Maybe some Sprite. Does Sprite have caffeine in it? Fuck that, I don't care—there's no way I'm falling asleep tonight anyway.

"JARVIS, lights?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I haven't been used to having someone in the house recently."

"Hasn't Pepper been staying here?"

"Well, yes, but she knows her way around well enough without the lights."

I roll my eyes. Of course she does, she's Pepper. "Sorry to disappoint you, JARVIS."

"No need, sir. I'm sorry for not being prepared."

"Do I detect some sarcasm there?"

"None more than you usually use."

I can't help but snicker just a little. "I missed you, JARVIS."

"And I you, sir."

"Now can you turn the lights on?"

"Certainly."

"Tha—_shit_!" Right as the lights flicker on, I find myself face-to-face with a very flustered Perry Van Shrike.

"Oh, good, you're up," he mutters blandly.

"Wonderful."

"Can you sleep?"

"No."

"Even better."

"Why?"

"Let's go." He turns on his heel and begins walking back downstairs. I wonder for a second how _he _gets around my house without lights on, but I have bigger things to think about, so I do.

"Where?"

He stops and faces me again. "I just got a call from Harry."

I stare at Perry and rub my eye with the heel of my palm. "Is he alive?"

He lets out a low whistle. "MIT didn't teach you everything, huh?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I got a call from Harry, and you're asking me if he's alive? Seriously? Jesus."

"Oh, come on. I meant to ask whether or not he escaped."

"But you didn't, did you?"

"It's three o'clock in the fucking _morning_."

"Not an excuse."

"Of course it is! You know, Van Shrike, I could kick—"

"Stop speaking. We need to go down to your workshop."

I tap my temple. "Great minds think alike; exactly where I was headed." I hold a hand out, allowing him to continue down the stairs, which he does. Under my breath, I quickly add, "I bet I thought of it first, though."

Perry laughs out loud. "Yeah, you wish, Stark."

"Let's just get down there. I have a certain secretary who's trying to sleep."

He nods slowly. "Speaking of Pepper, Stark, what's the status on you two?"

"Professional," I answer, sounding maybe just a bit too disappointed.

"Please. Who the hell am I gonna tell? It's okay to fuck your assistant; people do it all the time."

People aren't me, and their assistants aren't Pepper Potts. "We're strictly business."

"I see. So you skip the small talk every night and go right for the bedroom talk?"

We're down at the sliding glass door at the end of the stairs, where I have to punch in a code. Perry steps back, but before I throw down those four numbers, I tell him to step back a few more feet, making up some bullshit excuse about the computer not recognizing him and therefore not allowing either of us in, and he complies. I punch in the code, run into my shop, and close the door behind me, all in the course of five seconds. Perry's barely had a chance to take a step, and when he realizes that he's locked out, he's not happy, to say the least.

"Open the fucking door, Stark."

"Maybe in a little bit, Van Shrike."

"You asshole. This is serious."

"You think I don't know that?" I ask, beginning to tinker with some of my Iron Man prototype parts. Oh, shop, how I've missed you.

"Let me in."

"Hold on."

"Now."

"Later."

"Fuck."

"You."

Perry bangs his fist hard against the glass, but it doesn't shake. I don't know if he was expecting it to, but he looks more than a little disappointed. I smirk at him, and he pulls out his cell phone.

"I'll call the cops," he threatens.

I scoff. "What're you gonna say to them? You locked yourself out of Tony Stark's workshop? I don't think that's gonna fly."

"I'll make it fly. Now open the goddamn door before I have to do it myself."

"Good luck."

He pulls out a gun. Jesus Christ, he pulled a gun. "Fine, fine. God, there's no fucking with you, is there?"

Perry shakes his head, keeping the gun pointed at me as I open the door. "Nope. Not at all."

"Duly noted." I open the door and Perry steps in, replacing his gun. "Why did you want to come down here?"

"Same reason you did, I think."

"Probably." I nod, walking around the shop and pressing a few buttons here and there. Nothing happens. "JARVIS?"'

"Sir?"

"Care to tell me why my suit isn't coming up?"

"I think it's in hibernation, from lack of use recently."

Perry furrows his brow and stares at me.

"Like a computer," I tell him. "Wake it up, or whatever the hell it is you do."

"Harry's busted, just to let you know. Wasn't sure if you heard."

I freeze. "Uh, what?"

"They know he's not you. He's fucked. I told you he'd fuck it up, did I not?"

"It took him awhile to complete said fuck-up, though," I point out. "You've gotta give him some credit for that."

"I'll save it for when I see him. Now where's this ultra-classy suit of yours?"

Seconds later, the floor begins to creak and part of it splits in half, revealing my coveted, flashy, protective, awesome, and genius Iron Man suit.

Not to sound cocky or anything.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Perry run a hand through his hair and he lets out a whistle. Not just a normal whistle, I'd like to point out, an impressed whistle.

"Nice, yeah?"

He pauses before admitting, "Yeah." But then he realizes, "What the hell am I supposed to wear?"

"What's wrong with what you're wearing now?" I ask, stepping into the suit.

"Hmm. Well, let's see. You've got a bulletproof suit—"

"Bullet _resistant_. I'm working on it."

"Oh, sorry." He rolls his eyes. "Bullet _resistant _suit, and superpowers, and that arc reactor. I don't even have a goddamn tie."

"You want a tie? I can get you a tie."

"No I don't want a fucking _tie_. Get me a suit, asshole, or don't go in yours." He folds his arms across his chest and stares me down. "Ultimatum."

"Do you want to save Harry or not?"

"Is that even a question?"

"Did my voice rise slightly at the end of the sentence? If you were reading this in story form, would there be a question mark at the end? Yes, of course it's a damn question!"

"You son of a bitch."

I shake my head and grin a little. "People can never think of anything else but that. I thought you of all people would be more creative, Perry."

"Are we gonna go or not?" he asks impatiently.

I cover my mouth with my hand in mock shock. "You mean you don't _want _a suit?"

"Not from you."

"Ouch."

He sighs. "Listen, Tony. How about you get in your fancy suit and fly your ass or whatever the hell it is you do to where you and Harry were, and I'll follow you in the car. Sound good?"

I stick my hand out for him to shake, and when his hand approaches, I jerk mine back behind my head. "Yeah. Sounds great."

He's pissed at my move, but tries not to show it. "Don't leave without me; I'll meet you outside."

"I won't. I still have to get into this goddamn thing."

"Hey, what about Pepper?"

"What about her?"

"Should we leave her a note or something? Just to let her know where we went. I mean, she almost died while you were missing, imagine how much she'd freak if she woke up and you were gone again."

You idiot, Tony, why didn't you think of that? "Good idea." I grab a piece of paper and a pen and scribble down a quick note.

PEPPER: WENT WITH PERRY TO SAVE HARRY, BE BACK BEFORE NINE. –TONY

* * *


	13. Pepper and Harry

movieholic: thanks! and good call with the chapter repeat! haha i was wondering why it was like 3,000 words when it didn't feel like i wrote that much

Stark's Heart: thank you, and don't worry about it :) yay Pepper and Tony! they're so cute :)

Raven Aorla: thanks! Perry's sarcasm equals 10 different kinds of awesome

Elwyndra: haha thanks! sorry it took so long to get it uploaded :/

JinxedFairy: thanks! haha i wrote that line pretty late at night, so i kind of felt the way Tony did while writing it :D

**a/n: i guess this is a warning, but this chapter's kind of short, just because i really like the way it ends, and i wanted to end a chapter that way instead of just a section. there's more written, though, so the next chapter should be out in like, 2 days max :)**

* * *

At around twelve in the afternoon, I roll over and begin to feel uncomfortable. It's that feeling you get when you know you've been in bed for too long, you feel like your whole day is now wasted, so why should you even bother?

Yeah, that feeling.

I glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table for a few seconds, waiting for my vision to clear. I wonder if this is how Tony feels after he gets just a little too tipsy. Probably worse, I'm guessing. My Blackberry hasn't gone off yet, so I'm assuming that there aren't any major meetings, plans, or commitments.

"Good morning, Miss Potts." JARVIS' British twang echoes through the room as I stumble out of bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine, thank you, JARVIS." I stand in front of a mirror, making an attempt to tame my hair before I get in the shower.

"Any exciting plans for today?"

I shrug. "Not that I know of, really."

"Ah." JARVIS sounds disappointed. "I would've thought that, under the current circumstances of Mr. Stark's return and all—"

Damn it, I knew I forgot something. I just didn't have any idea it was this big.

"Where is Tony, JARVIS?"

"Last I saw, I believe he was in the shop with Mr. Van Shrike."

"What were they doing?" I ask, my voice getting higher and higher with each step I take toward the shop. _He better not be gone. I just got him back. I can't lose him again; I don't care what he says. I'm not okay letting him go off by himself like that—it's bitten him in the ass too many times before. I need him _here_, with me. _

"They were fighting."

"Fighting?"

"Yes. Apparently Mr. Stark locked Mr. Van Shrike out of his shop, and this didn't sit very well with Mr. Van Shrike."

I roll my eyes. Pepper's Babysitting Service, open Monday through Friday, no holidays. Nine to five. Babies must be potty-trained.

"Wonderful. Thank you, JARVIS."

"You're welcome. You might want to hurry, though, Ms. Potts."

"Hurry? Where?"

"Down to Tony's shop."

Pepper bites her tongue. "Why, JARVIS?"

"I think they were planning."

I can't deal with this right now. "Planning _what, _JARVIS?" I'm beginning to think that Tony reprogrammed him this morning to not give me the full story.

"Something to rescue Mr. Lockhart, I believe."

"You _believe_, or you _know_?"

A pause, then, "I know."

"JARVIS! Why didn't you stop them?"

"They seemed to know what they were doing. Or at least, what they wanted to do."

I squeeze my eyes shut and wonder how a system that Tony Stark created could be so stupid. "He just got _back_, JARVIS! Why…how could you let him leave?"

"He _is _Tony Stark, Ms. Potts. He's stubborn. He'd find a way out even if I locked everything down in the house. You know he would."

I know he would, but I don't want to admit it. Instead, I run my hand through my hair a few times and go down to the shop without another word.

PEPPER: WENT WITH PERRY TO SAVE HARRY, BE BACK BEFORE NINE. –TONY

That's such a typical Tony note. I hold it for a few seconds, wondering why the hell Tony thinks it's okay to leave again without telling me. _Me_, the person who was freaking out, spending nights trying to fall asleep because I couldn't imagine him not being here again. First with Stane, now with whoever these people are…

I hope he realizes that I don't have an arc reactor for a heart, too. Mine's still pretty susceptible to heart attacks and the like, unlike him.

I feel kind of useless. I don't know where they went, and even if I followed them, I doubt I could catch up to them in time. Absentmindedly, I fold Tony's note into a little square and stick it into my blouse pocket.

"Shall I call Colonel Rhodes, Ms. Potts?" JARVIS wants to know.

Oh, what the hell. "Sure, JARVIS. Thank you."

I'm left in silence for a few minutes until JARVIS' voice reappears in the air, informing me that Rhodey will be right over. I sit down on Tony's sofa and grab the blanket that his mother made him, the one that he doesn't trust with anyone but me and himself. I don't know what else to do—it feels like instinct—so I wrap myself in the blanket and wait for Rhodey.

* * *

I've lost count. I don't know how many times I've thought or said "Fuck me," or some variation of that phrase this week. It's ridiculous, and I'm sick of it.

So, please have intercourse with me.

There, a nice change of pace, and I even did a little censoring for those of you reading with little kids. Aren't I considerate? Actually, I really wouldn't think so, just because I used "fuck" earlier, anyway. I just replaced it once, but trust me, it'll be back.

"Honestly, Lockhart, I don't know why you're still here."

I can't see Brett, I know he's the one talking to me, so I just sit there, a little too awkwardly for my taste.

"Well, I know how you can solve that problem," I finally answer.

"Oh? How?"

"Let me go."

"I don't think so, ya little bitch."

"Come on!" I groan. "I'm nothing but a pain in the ass—" I know, and am comfortable with admitting this, "—and I'm worth shit to you guys. You wanted Tony, don't fuck with me, I know you like him more than me."

"Actually, I'm surprised you're not dead."

I can't help but feel a little proud of this. He's surprised that I haven't keeled over yet. I'm a trooper, goddamn it.

"I'm a trooper."

Bret laughs and jerks my chair around so that I'm facing him. "We haven't been trying to kill you, you fuck-up."

"That's nice of you."

"I guess you could say that. But in reality, I'm surprised that I haven't been asked to stick a gun in your face and pull the trigger."

Needless to say, this deflates my positive attitude a little. "Thanks."

"No, seriously," Brett goes on, "I was hoping—I mean really hoping—that I got to be the one to blow your fucking brains out, Lockhart."

"We seem to be on pretty close terms, here, why don't you call me Harry?"

"I'll pass." Brett looks away and pulls a small gun out of his pants. "But I don't think you realize how tempting it is. Nobody else is here, nobody would hear it. I mean, sure, there's the mess afterwards, but I think I can get someone to take care of that pretty quickly. You're a waste of space, and I'm sure we could get Stark back here without you to be bait."

Major self-esteem blow right there. I don't know why I should be surprised at that news, though, especially since it's really not news.

"I mean, honestly, I don't think your best friend there, Van Shrike, could have found Stark. I don't give a fuck how great of a detective he supposedly is, he wouldn't have found him. We didn't need to take you, too, as a distraction for him. You aren't worth it, you piece of shit. You're a waste of time, space, and oxygen."

I open my mouth, and Brett punches me in the jaw.

"Fuck," I breathe, gently tonguing my gums, which have gone through more shit in the past few days than they have my whole life before this fucking fiasco. I don't know what to say, what to think. I guess they really do know their shit if they knew that I'm Perry's assistant, and me going missing would throw him off—I wonder how thrown off he really was, though, he seemed to be doing pretty well before he met me—I guess I have to give them credit for that.

Fuck that, no I don't.

"So, I went through all this shit for nothing?" I ask slowly, looking up at Brett.

"This fucking plan would've worked if you two hadn't fucked it up. If Stark were still here, we would've had you both for at least another two weeks, maybe three, and then I really _could _have killed you."

I've never felt so loved. It doesn't seem appropriate, but I can picture Brett rephrasing his last statement to, "This fucking plan would've worked, if it weren't for you meddling kids!" Ha, just like _Scooby Doo_. Get it? Got it? I crack myself up.

"Well, I'm gonna have to say that I'm pretty happy with the fact that Tony and I fucked up your plan," I tell Brett. Honestly, wouldn't you be happy you fucked up someone's plan if it meant that you got to breathe for a few more days? If you say no, I'll know you're lying.

Brett glares at me and puts on a high-pitched voice that sounds absolutely nothing like my own, but I can tell that he's doing it to mock me, anyway. Idiot. "Well, I'm gonna have to say that I'm pretty pissed off with the fact that you and that Stark asshole fucked up our plan."

"What the fuck do you want me to do, then, apologize?"

Brett's heard enough, apparently—he punches me hard in the gut, and I double over, my eyes squeezed shut, head between my knees. After a few seconds my head still down, I decide that it's safe for me to open them again, and I do.

That's when I see the blue.

* * *


	14. Pepper, Perry, Tony, Rhodey

movieholic: thanks! sorry if your snorting/lol'ing was embarrassing or anything haha, completely non-intentional :)

Stark's Heart: yay pepper and tony! :) yeahh, hopefully harry won't have to go through much more of this

Elwyndra: thanks! :) sorry for the wicked long wait, though :( i'm blaming college 100 percent...and my lack of time management skills

**a/n: "there's more written, though, so the next chapter should be out in like, 2 days max :)" i'm a horrible person, that 2 days max thing was nowhere near true :/ FAIL. sorry guys :( but i guess the good news is that this story is done! the rest of the chapters are written and ready to go! but once again, i fail, and i'm really sorry to keep you guys waiting for an obnoxiously long time. i just figured that it would be better to finish it all with a longer wait instead of one chapter at a time. i don't know. i hope you guys don't hate me, or the rest of the story!  
**

* * *

It only takes a few minutes for me to realize that I really wish I stayed up all night so that Tony couldn't sneak off like this. He _pays _me to watch his ass, and I don't do it. I'm getting paid to watch Tony Stark's ass—take that any way you'd like—and I can't. Even. Keep. Track. Of. Him. For. Two. Hours.

I don't even know what I'm going to say to Rhodey when he gets here. I don't think he and Perry like each other at all; he's not going to be happy to hear that Tony's off saving Harry with Perry instead of himself.

"Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes has arrived on the premises," JARVIS informs me. My body flinches as the tinny British voice hits the open air, but I'm composed in a matter of seconds and rush outside to meet Rhodey.

"Pepper, how is everything?" Rhodey asks as I shove myself into his arms. "What's going on?"

"Tony's back," I mutter into his shoulder, bracing myself for any type of reaction.

"_What_? He's back? When?"

"Earlier today. Late last night. This morning. I don't really know."

"Where is he?" Rhodey grins. "Why isn't that son of a bitch out here, too? He must have some kind of plan up his sleeve."

"You could say that," I tell him softly.

"Well? What is it, Pep?"

Better to say everything quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "Harry didn't come back with him, so he and Perry went to go save him."

Rhodey's arms turn into spaghetti as his hug dissolves into nothing. He takes a step back and looks hard at me.

"Why didn't he ask me?"

"I'm sure it was nothing personal, Rhodey," I assure him hurriedly, "Harry and Perry are extremely close, and—"

"Yeah, _gay _Perry," Rhodey interrupts under his breath.

"Don't be an asshole, Rhodey." My jaw drops right after I say this, and Rhodey's eyes widen. "I—I mean, come on, Jim, it was uncalled for."

He pauses, then nods slowly. "Go on."

"I mean, Perry's a private detective—"

"I'm a _colonel_."

"Damn it, could you just let me finish a sentence?"

Rhodey raises both hands in the air. "Fine, fine, go. Sorry."

"_Perry _is more involved in this case now than you are. Tony was who you wanted back; Harry is who Perry wants back. If Harry's still missing, but Tony's safe, wouldn't it make sense for Perry to go with Tony instead of you?" I feel like I'm explaining this to a five-year-old.

"I still could've helped."

"No offense, Jim, but I don't think they had time to call you. I mean, the reason I had JARVIS tell you to come here was because they left while I was asleep."

"Tony didn't even tell you about it?"

Yeah, it was pretty shocking to me, too. "I'm guessing that was only because of my…reaction…when he came back."

Rhodey smirks. "What'd you do, Pepper?"

"Nothing that concerns you," I snap.

He rolls his eyes. "I'll just call Tony, then."

"Y'know, the reason I asked you to come here was so that you could help me, I don't know, maybe stay with me, just so that I don't go crazy waiting for him to get back. But I mean, if you're going to be a dick about it…JARVIS is always here."

He sighs. "Only because you called me a dick. I don't even think I've ever heard you say that unless it's been someone's name."

"You learn something new every day."

"I guess so." He pauses, then decides to apologize again.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine; I can tell when you're pissed off. It's the same tone you use when you're talking to Tony most of the time." He grins at me and I roll my eyes. "So what else are we doing here?"

I pause, then sit back down on the couch. "I…kind of just wanted some company. I'm getting nervous again, nervous that he's not going to come back."

Rhodey's face softens immediately and he sits next to me. "Pepper, he's a professional. He knows what he's doing, and he'll be able to handle himself."

"He couldn't handle himself when he first got in this stupid mess. He couldn't handle himself when he was kidnapped. He's like a child, Rhodey; everybody knows that."

"He couldn't handle himself because he was drugged. He couldn't handle himself because he was ambushed. Trust me, Pepper, when he's got the upper hand, Tony's the best there is. And, if it makes you feel any better, just, just think of Perry as a really good babysitter."

Wow. He actually got me to laugh. I take his hand and look at him. "Thanks, Rhodey."

He nods slowly, then looks around. "It's kind of depressing, just sitting around wondering whether or not Tony's getting his ass kicked. Let's do something. Let's play UNO."

* * *

Tony Stark has no fucking sense of direction; let me tell you. I think he was drinking before he decided to try and save Harry with me, because he's flying all over the place, and I've almost hit three cars already. He better not be trying to lose me, or I swear to God, I'll fuck him up. He thinks I won't—I will.

Honestly, the son of a bitch doesn't even stop when I have to wait at a red light. A little common courtesy, please.

My phone starts vibrating in the cup holder next to me. After one glance, I grab it and answer.

"Perry Van Shrike."

"Hey, Perry, it's me."

I roll my eyes. How the fuck Tony got my number is beyond me. "Can I _help _you?"

"Almost there, pal. Just an itinerary."

"How the hell do you even know where this place is? How can you remember it?"

"How can you not trust me?" Tony's voice echoes off the metal encasing him, and I feel like I'm talking to someone in outer space. "Out of the two of us, I'm the only one who's even been to the fucking place; I'd say my opinion takes superiority over yours, right? I think so. Your opinion can take superiority over mine when…well, when we need it to."

"You were probably drugged the whole way there, and disoriented the whole way back."

He doesn't answer right away, and I know I'm right. Score one for Perry.

"I know enough. You'll be thanking me once we get Harry back."

"Remind me to send you one of those singing Hallmark cards."

"Do that and I shoot you."

I laugh. "You're not gonna fucking shoot me. You don't even have a gun."

"I'm a weapons manufacturer, dipshit. What the hell do you think my house is full of?"

"I didn't see any there."

"You just weren't looking in the right spot."

"I—fuck!" Something crashes to the ground two feet in front of my car, and I'm inches from hitting the fucking thing. I swerve and tap a light pole. Just a tap, thank God.

"Well, ex_cuse_ me," Tony mutters.

"That wasn't to you, for once, asshole," I tell him. "Something just fell in front of my fucking car. A meteor or something."

Tony laughs. "A fucking _meteor _fell in front of your car?"

"Do I need to fucking repeat it for you?" All of a sudden I feel my car tilt forward slightly, and when I glance out the windshield, I see Tony in his goddamn suit, leaning on my goddamn _fucking _car, the mask up, with that stupid little smirk on his face.

"I guess that 'fuck' was for me, huh?"

I roll down the window and poke my head out. "Jesus, Tony, what the hell was that for? Not everybody has seven cars waiting in a workshop in their fucking basements."

"We're here, babycakes."

I get out of my car and walk over to Tony. "Are we? Lead the way, then, superhero." Tony turns and starts walking toward wherever the hell we're supposed to be going when I grab him by the elbow and force him around fast.

"And if you _ever _fucking call me that again, I'll make sure your death is slow and painful."

Tony smirks and closes his helmet, then continues walking.

"We're in the middle of fuckin' nowhere," I tell Tony as we walk.

"What were you expecting—an apartment in the middle of the city? With neighbors? Even better: with a neighbor who's a _cop_?"

"We could've driven further; you didn't have to jump in front of my damn car," I grumble, and for a second, I sound like Harry. I've gotta stop that before it gets out of hand.

"It'll look to suspicious if we just drive up there with an unauthorized car, idiot. Is this your first rodeo or what?"

"I'm one of the best P.I.'s in Los Angeles, pal." I let that sink in before changing the subject. "Did you even think about how the fuck we're gonna get Harry back to the car if it's parked all the way over here?"

"Did you even notice the fact that I can do this?" Tony engages something in his suit and immediately bursts into the air above us, hovering with his arms folded across his chest.

"Fuck you, why the hell aren't you carrying me there, then? Why are we wasting time walking when we could be there right now?" I snap my fingers.

"Oh, yeah, right, because _that's _not suspicious or anything," he mutters. "You really don't work well under pressure, huh, Van Shrike?"

"I'm seriously about to punch you in the face right now."

He taps the side of his helmet. "That's the beauty of this thing."

I can't waste any more words right now. I'm not going to admit it to Tony—and you're not going to, either, trust me—but I'm fucking scared. I don't want to see shit that's not ideal. If Harry's not wrapped up in a pretty little bow, ready to go, then I don't want to fucking see him. If his brains are busted out of his head, then I don't want to see him. If he hasn't changed at all, except for the expected cuts and bruises, then of course I'll fucking see him, but if he's shot at like he was during Christmas time, well then that's just depressing, honestly.

"What's our plan here?" Tony's voice jerks me out of my thoughts, and I stare at him.

"Plan? Uh, forgive me here, I guess, but I thought _you _were in charge of the plans, since you're the superhero and every_thing_."

"I've got enough to worry about," he answers. "I've got ideas, but no set plans. Now what d'you have?"

"Besides breaking in and getting Harry the fuck out of there? Nothing, really."

Tony pauses. "Well, specifics on how we do that would be preferable, _nice_, even."

"We walk in there, blast the fuckin' guards or whoever the fuck is in there to kingdom come with your lasers and shit, grab Harry, and run."

"That ruins all the fun," Tony whines.

"What the fuck did you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, it might be nice to actually make them pay instead of just blasting their asses away." Tony shrugs. "But that's just me."

I scoff. "You're the one in the suit; be my guest if you want to make them pay, but I'm kind of not a fan of that. Especially since I…don't have one."

"Just protect yourself with your sarcasm; that's what you usually do."

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, what're we gonna do?"

"We're gonna find a way in there and we're gonna save Harry's goddamn ass."

"No specifics?"

"You're the superhero."

"Superheroes have assistants sometimes, jerk-off."

I sigh. "Look. We can leave them alive if you want, and you can finish them off—or whatever the fuck your plan is—later. Right now, I just want Harry's ass out of there. I know the guy; he can't survive in prison, and there's not a shot in hell that he'll survive in there much longer. So can your fucking Irish robot find us a way in? Now, preferably?"

"He's British," Tony answers, but I can tell I made him soften a little. He spent a few days with Harry; he knows that it's not easy for you to forget a kid like him. Even if you want to hate the guy, it's tough.

I'm obviously speaking from experience here.

"Fine," Tony finishes. He waves one iron-clad hand in front of him. "It's right there."

I have to admit: the walk really wasn't as far as it looked.

"You don't want me to _fly _you there, do you?" Tony smirks from behind his mask.

"Shut up." I roll my eyes. "Any idea of a sneak entrance or anything?"

Tony nods slowly. "Yeah, I think I could find something."

* * *

I swallow hard—holy shit—and my stomach starts to do little back flips. That blue Christmas light can only mean one thing…but I don't want to think it out loud, or tell you guys, even though you know. I don't want to jinx this when it's so close, you know? I don't think he's in the exact room yet, but Perry might be: he's more camouflaged, unless he got an orange arc reactor or something installed.

Come on, now, it could've happened. I've been gone for a while. Hell, Perry could be straight by now.

I don't notice it at first, but when my eyes eventually wander back up to Brett, I realize that he's not looking at me, waiting for me to come back up for air. He's got his attention on something behind me, maybe out the window? There's definitely a window behind me; I remember that much. I decide to train my eyes back down to the duct tape pinning my ankles together and begin to wonder if I'm physically capable of bending down far enough to start chewing the fucking stuff off. It's a fifty-fifty, in my opinion, but maybe I'm just being generous. As I bend down a teeny bit more, just a tad, my handcuffs—yes, they're _mine _now; I've been in the fucking things long enough for me to be able to keep them as a souvenir—jangle against each other softly. I don't really think anything of this—it's too soft for Brett to hear—until I feel his hand grab the back of my shirt and jerk me upright. He does this so fast that my neck snaps back and before I can let it fall forward again, he slaps another piece of duct tape across my mouth.

I stare at him, and he's just grinning away like some asshole. Ha, it's _so _funny. Fucking hysterical. It should be on goddamn Comedy Central.

"You're not gonna give us away now, right?" Brett asks, walking behind me and crouching down. "Because if you give us away, I'll do what I've been waiting to do for a long time." I can feel the metal of a gun tap against my temple, then he squats down behind me and doesn't move.

I wonder if Brett can see Tony's arc reactor, but I doubt it, based on the fact that he's not _doing _anything. He's not fucking Tony up, but at the same time, I'm not out of this chair and on the way home yet, either.

It's pretty unsettling.

* * *

"Why the hell isn't anybody here?" Perry whispers. "Why aren't we fighting off goddamn kidnappers right now?"

"Why the hell are you complaining about this?" I ask, peeking behind a corner. JARVIS did a hell of a job oiling this thing up so that it doesn't creak anymore; thank God.

"Because it's fucking _creepy_," Perry insists. "Are you really this out of pop culture, Stark? If nobody's here, trying to stop us, then they already know we're _here_. We're making this too fucking easy for them. Don't be an idiot."

"We'll be fine."

"That's easy for you to say. You're the one with the fucking suit of armor."

"I offered you one, didn't I?"

"No, asshole."

"Could've sworn I did."

"Stop speaking; keep moving."

As we walk, trying to find even the tiniest sign of inhabitance, I start to think a little too much about Perry's words. We probably should've come across _somebody _by now, right? I'd think so, but then again, it's like, three in the morning, and they probably take shifts.

Fuck that, there were at least ten guards on duty 24/7 in the Middle East; I don't know what I'm thinking. Maybe there are surveillance cameras around, at least. That'd make me feel a little more at home.

"_Hey!_" Perry hisses, crouching down near a room with two windows looking into the hall where we are. "Get your ass over here. And stay low, especially with your blinking lights shit."

I get down on my knees next to Perry and look into the room, realizing right away why it's so important to Perry—his assistant is right there. Right fucking there.

And no one's around.

"I'm gonna risk it," Perry breathes. "Cover me." He loads a tiny little handgun that I really don't think could do any damage at all if called upon, and makes his move.

He sneaks toward Harry, who's sitting almost too perfectly in the corner. His eyes are wide and he's trying to yell something, but the duct tape over his mouth is proving to be a problem. Every time he yells, it's pretty much impossible for anyone to decipher anything of substance in his words. I'm not sure if he sees Perry or just me, but either way, I suddenly want to get the hell out of here.

"JARVIS," I mutter, "gimme a body heat scan in this room and all surrounding ones."

"…I've detected five bodies, sir."

"Five? In the whole place?" I tense up as Perry finally reaches Harry.

"In this room, sir."

"_Shit_," I breathe. "Perry!" I hiss, tempted to throw something at him to get his attention. "Hey, st—"

"Get the fuck b—" Perry's just ripped the tape off Harry's mouth, and he's onto the same thing I am—Perry's the only oblivious son of a bitch here. Within a matter of seconds, I learned three things:

1. Perry was right: we should've been more cautious. We made it too easy for them,

2. Harry goes limp, and will be pretty much useless for fifteen minutes, thanks to my stupid invention—the exact same one Stane used on me, and

3. I'm a fucking idiot.

"Tony…Tony, I know you're here. I heard you." I recognize that voice instantly: Brett. Again. "Why don't you come out, ya little prick? Your friends won't be going anywhere, though, so no rush. We can be here _alllll _fucking night. Hell, I'll even order some fucking donuts if it takes that long."

I pause and peek out again from where Perry and I originally staked out. Just think about it, idiot. It's just like the situation in Yinsen's hometown. Use the micro rockets to target the enemy in the situation, shoot them down—fucking Brett—have Perry grab Harry and drag his ass out of there, then we fly off, meet Pepper for breakfast, and live happy ever fucking after—

This would be ideal, if anything in the suit were working.

"JARVIS," I breathe. I can see Perry staring at me, wondering why that fucker next to him isn't already dead, but he's not yelling at me; I don't think he wants to give away that I'm here. How courteous.

"It appears that your defense mechanisms are dysfunctional, sir."

I'm almost on my knees, that's how hard and fast my stomach dropped.

"What the hell do you mean, my—"

"Why the _fuck _aren't I dead yet, Stark?" Brett demands. "Oh, that's right. Maybe because we're a hell of a lot smarter than you thought we were."

"It appears that some type of shield has been installed in the room, disarming your suit, sir."

I make a mental note to change up JARVIS' responses a little, then resume panicking.

"Didn't I program you to make it be…armed?" I falter, trying to figure out some type of plan B.

"You did, sir, but they've installed some form of technology that has the ability to disable your suit."

"Hack it," I hiss.

"Impressed yet, Tony?" Brett sneers. "Damien was pretty good with computers in high school."

Fuck—_Damien _did this? I glance at Harry and know for a fact that if he had control of his body, he'd be just as stunned as I am.

"I can't find any way to hack into the system, sir. They've appeared to lock down every possible option I can find."

I swallow hard, trying to pretend this doesn't faze me. "Keep looking," I breathe.

"Damien's our little computer geek, Tony. He's like you, but stupider. He _was_ on the waiting list for MIT, though; I'll give him that much."

As if I give a fuck. Maybe if I can buy…ten more minutes, then Harry could help. Yeah, idiot, if Harry could magically get out of those handcuffs. Right.

Oh, my God, I'm actually considering help from Harry.

A bullet clicks into place and breaks the silence, and Perry gets at least three shades paler. "I'm not afraid to shoot this fucker in the head, Stark. You can avoid having his life on your conscience, though; you _could _save him. But you won't. I know you won't. 'Tony Stark too selfish to save his friend; is captured again, anyway.' I can see the headlines now."

"Any time now, Tony," Perry mutters.

"Shut up, asshole," Brett snaps, keeping his eyes on me. He's not actually looking _at _me, though, which is more comforting than it might sound; JARVIS might not be able to hack their system just yet, but he can still dim the arc reactor. It's a trick we've been working on for a while, and we finally got it to work. Impressed? I was.

"Just give up, Tony. You can't win this. Whatever you try, it's not gonna work, okay? We've thought of it all. Every single fucking thing."

"Sir," JARVIS says suddenly, "might I suggest—"

"Already on it," I interrupt, hoping that we're thinking of the same thing. I get to my feet and take a few steps back. JARVIS doesn't protest, so I continue. When I glance back into the room, I can hear Brett laughing and Perry's jaw drops, a signature "what-the-fuck" look on his face.

"You're fucked, Van Shrike, that's it. How does it feel? To know that someone you thought was your friend betrayed you? That he doesn't give a damn about you?" Brett asks, shoving Perry down into a chair next to Harry. "I've gotta say, I really didn't think you'd run, Stark, but hey, learn something new every day, I guess."

I take a few more steps back until I'm out of the room. Brett's still laughing, but once he realizes where I am—once he can actually see me one hundred percent—his smile fades.

"_Fuck_," he mutters. "Damien!" he yells. "Change the fucking room settings before Ch—"

His hands slowly rise in the air as Perry points a particularly tiny gun at his head.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking of, sir," JARVIS tells me.

"Uh, me neither." Perry smirks at me while he forces Brett into the chair he was just in.

"That took you too fucking long, Tony."

"I had it all planned out!" I insist, taking a step toward Brett, who would probably strangle me right now if it weren't for the gun threatening to blow his brains out. "I was gonna walk out of the room, so then all my shit would be enabled again, and—"

"Behind you," Perry mutters, wrapping duct tape that he found on the floor around Brett's wrists.

"What? Oh, shit." Damien's behind me, but I turn and fire a tranquilizer dart into his chest. He's too slow to dodge the thing—I'm not even sure he realized I fired it—and collapses. I can hear Brett mutter something about his precious MIT wait-lister being a fuck-up, and I'm not gonna lie; it made me happy.

"Get me that thing he used on Harry."

"What thing?"

"The thing that fuckin' made him like that!" Perry snaps, jerking his head at Harry, who's just now beginning to regain body movement.

"Oh, right." After a few seconds, I manage to find the device Perry's talking about and decide to do the honors myself.

"Goddamnfuckyou," Brett spits before he freezes, too. I should probably choose a better word than "freeze," since that makes me feel like the Iceman or something like that. It's too late for that now, though; we're already into the next paragraph.

"Why the fuck did you wait so long?" Harry gasps, rotating his jaw as Perry helps him to his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me see what _you _do when some asshole's figured out how to make your armor malfunction. Let's just see that, okay?"

"Is this really it?" Perry asks.

Harry and I stare at him. "What?"

"There were only two guys guarding you, and you two couldn't figure out some little fucking scheme to escape? From _those _two dipshits?" He points at Damien's crumpled body sprawled across the floor, then at Brett, who acts devious and glares at us.

"Of course it wasn't just the two of them," I snap.

"Where the fuck are the rest of them, then?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want us…want us to go…_looking _for them?" Harry falters, still trying to regain full movement of his body.

"Sir," JARVIS interrupts, "I'd suggest that you, Mr. Lockhart, and Mr. Van Shrike make your way to the nearest exit before there are any more unexpected visitors and/or room shields and call the proper authorities from Mr. Van Shrike's car. Better yet, call them once you're all back home. I'm sure Ms. Potts is worried sick for you. All three of you."

* * *

"Uno! In your _face_, Jim! I'm about to beat you _again_!" Pepper says, taking another quick sip of her wine. This distraction plan worked almost too well, much better than I thought it would. It's making me even more nervous, though, knowing that Pepper and I have been playing Uno for two hours with no word from Tony or Perry. I consider calling Tony's cell phone, but if he's in the middle of something, he'd probably never speak to me again.

So I don't.


	15. Harry, Rhodey, Harry

Stark's Heart: i love, love, love the idea of tony and pepper hugging it out :) thanks for reading! and sorry i still took ridiculously long getting this uploaded :/

JinxedFairy: thank you! i'm glad you're liking it :D

Yamamo: updated, dammit! sorry it took so long :(

Sammet: thanks! yeah, i kinda get caught up with the dialogue back and forth, sorry it was confusing! but i'm glad you liked it! :)

**A/N: second to last chapter, whoa what! i feel like i'm always apologizing for massive update waits in these A/Ns, and for that i'm sorry, too :( but i hope you guys still enjoy it all, because i know that i'm having a hell of a time writing it :)**

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* * *

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Yeah, yeah, boo hiss. How anti-climactic, right? Barely any fight scene there; I'm fully aware. I don't think the author's very good at action scenes…so I'll apologize for her. But I mean, what do you want her to do, lie about it? That's what happened, and that's that.

"Hey, Harry," Perry says as he drags me to my feet.

"Perry." I glare at Tony in his iron fucking suit, pissed off that he'd even _think of _something that lame, that stupid paralyze thing. I mean, come on, what the hell.

"Tell me: what was worse, this, or when your balls got fried that one Christmas?"

"Uh, _what_?" Sure, sure, Tony's all ears, all of a sudden.

"Don't talk to me right now," I answer, stretching my arms.

"We'll fill you in later, Tony," Perry answers. "I think you should stay on alert, just in case more jackasses come creeping around corners or something like that. I'd rather not die tonight, thank you very much."

"Relax, Perry. I'm ready; good to go. Stop worrying."

"Worrying's what Perry does best—fuck!" I yelp as Perry elbows me hard in the ribs.

"I'll handcuff you to that asshole—" he points to Brett, "—and leave you here, Harry. See if I don't."

"You love me too much."

"Try me."

"Let's talk about this outside, guys, hmm? Sound good? Because it sounds pretty awesome to me," Tony interjects.

"If you didn't love me so much, you wouldn't have even bothered showing up here," I say tauntingly as Tony starts shoving me towards the exit.

"Shut up."

"You'd be sleeping right now. What time is it?"

"Too early for you to be talking."

"Or too late," Tony interjects.

Perry glares at him. "You know exactly what time it is, you asshole; don't side with him on this."

Tony holds up two fingers and points them at me, then at himself, then at me again. "We've got a bond going here, Perry. We're hostage buddies."

"It's one of the strongest bonds in the world," I inform him.

"You know what's stronger, asshole? The bond between a P.I. and his assistant. Pretty fucking strong."

I open my mouth, then close it. "This is true."

"It's very true."

"Sir," JARVIS addresses Tony one more time, trying to get his message across. "I'm no longer suggesting that you three leave now; I'm demanding it. So without further ado or dillydallying, _leave_."

"Shit," I mutter as my knees give out from under me for a second and I grab onto Perry for support. He glares down at me as I wrap my hands around his arm, but doesn't shake me off. Instead, he slows his pace, letting Tony walk in front of us—probably a better idea to begin with, anyway, since he's the one with the armor—and helps me, just like he did when we had our first lovely little life-or-death escapade during Christmas, which seems like fucking _centuries _ago.

"How the fuck did the idea for that fucking…_paralyzer _even get into your mind?" Perry demands.

Tony shrugs, taking a peek before another corner. "Just happened, I guess."

"Shit sucks," I tell him, hoping that he'll feel bad.

He pauses, then says, "I know how it feels" almost too softly for me to hear him.

When we finally make it outside, Tony orders JARVIS to call the cops, which I guess is really convenient, having a robot take care of all your shit for you. Must be nice. I'd want one; wouldn't you? I mean, I don't know if I'd go for the whole British accent thing, but other than that, hell yes.

"Hey, Perry," I say while we're walking back to the car. This does strike me as kind of stupid; we just escaped some crazy kidnapping shit, and yet we're _walking _back to the car? That makes obvious sense.

"What?"

"Thanks for saving my ass," I sigh, "again."

Perry doesn't answer, but I see him grin really fast before he tries to cover it up. I caught it, that sneaky son of a bitch.

* * *

"Rhodey, Rhodey, where's Tony? Where's Tony; we gotta find him." Pepper's voice slurs more than once as she tries to stand, then her knees give way and she collapses back onto the couch.

"Pepper, you're not _that _gone, are you?" I ask, a little incredulous as to how this little alcohol could have this much of an effect on her.

"No, no, absolutely not, Rhodey." She puts her glass down and stares at me. "I just want him to be back here, right now." She jabs her finger at the vacant couch cushion next to her. "Right now, right here."

"I'm sure he's safe, Pepper; we just have to wait to hear from him," I tell her reassuringly. _But it'd be a damn nice courtesy if he just _called _already, even if it was just an update, letting us know that he's not captured…_

"I think you should call him."

"You know how he gets when I interrupt him during something important."

"I don't care. Call him." Pepper stares at me, and I have a feeling that I'll be kicked out of this mansion of a house if I don't comply.

"Fine," I say, drawling out the word like I'm a little kid being told he can't have a cookie until after dinner. I know it's the most overused example ever, but that's what it sounds like, so sue me for being realistic.

I dial Tony's number and wait, my stomach tightening already. What if someone answers, and it's not him? What if it's a goddamn terrorist again? What if it's just some random person who found his phone on the street? What if Tony's dead? What if—

"Shut _up_, Harry, it's not your fucking phone—Rhodey!"

Before I know it, my face breaks out into a giant grin, and Pepper's eyes light up.

"Tony, Jesus Christ. Where are you?"

"Just…finishing…" His voice falters more than once, and for a second my excitement turns to panic. My mind races as all these different options come running into my head.

Is he being forced to say that?

Is Harry actually even _with_ him?

Where the fuck is Perry?

"…we're kicking ass! And taking names!" Harry's voice floats into the conversation, and once again, my heartbeat starts to return to normal.

"Shut up, you didn't do any ass-kicking; you were incapacitated for the past twenty minutes." That's Perry.

"It's actually fifteen." Tony.

"It took him five minutes to realize he could fucking move without our help."

A pause, then: "Duly noted." Another pause. "Rhodey! What the hell happened to you?"

I sigh. "What are you talking about, you son of a bitch? You're the one who stopped talking to me."

"Not my fault. I just got caught up in the conversation here."

"Where the hell are you guys?"

"On the way back. In the middle of nowhere."

"Do you have any idea where you are?"

"A generalized one. We've got JARVIS if we get lost; forget about it."

"So Perry and Harry are with you?"

"They are."

"Who the fuck are you even talking to?" Harry, I'm guessing. The only one I haven't met.

"Rhodes, dipshit," Perry snaps. Bit of a love-hate relationship there.

"Well, lah di fuckin' dah," Harry sneers. "_Excuse _me for not recognizing the voice of some guy I've never met, huh?"

"Shut up," Tony snaps. "Where's Pepper?"

"She's fine," I answer, glancing at Pepper, who's still staring hopefully at me; albeit her eyes are still glazed over slightly, but she's definitely concerned.

"Rho_dey_," she drawls, "tell To_ny _to get _back _here. Tell him that I _miss _him. And that we have _wine_."

Shit.

He pauses, then asks sharply, "Are you drinking wine with _my _personal assistant, Rhodey?"

"He'll come back for wine," Pepper mutters.

"It was just to calm her down, Tony. Relax."

"Who says I'm not relaxed?"

"You don't sound relaxed."

"Of course I wouldn't be relaxed; I just escaped goddamn kidnappers, Rhodey!"

I sigh, not really knowing what else I can say. "Just get back here, Tony. As soon as possible. Preferably before Pepper freaks out again."

Tony's voice softens immediately. "Was she freaking out?"

"Of course she was. What; did you think she was just gonna feel bland about it? Did you think she wasn't gonna give a shit?"

"Well, I—"

"Hey, Stark, let's get going here. Like, as in I want to dump the fucking car and have you fly us back to your mansion," Perry demands.

"It's not a _mansion_," Tony corrects him quickly. "Mansions are really big and creepy and have steeples and gargoyles attached to the fireplaces. I don't know if you remember what my place looks like, but I've got none of that shit."

"Yet," Perry mutters.

"I wasn't really sure what she'd do," Tony muses to himself, completely dismissing Perry's comments.

"Well, she cares, okay? And I think she wants you back here in one piece, and from the looks of it, you guys aren't completely out of there yet. So, pardon my French, but get the fuck out."

I must've said this louder than I had planned, because I can hear Harry agreeing fervently with me.

"Okay, okay, we're leaving," Tony says, sounding like he's appeasing a group of preschoolers who want snack time. Before he hangs up, though, he quickly throws something else my way. "Rhodey, stop giving her wine."

I pause, wondering if I did the right thing by trying to drown her anxieties away with alcohol. Maybe Tony knows something I don't know; maybe Pepper has a past, too—

"She likes vodka martinis," he continues, "extra dry, with olives." He pauses, and I can almost hear him grinning through the phone. "Lots of olives, like, at least three olives."

I can't help but start laughing, probably from relief. "You got it. Now get your asses back here, and maybe I'll have some vodka martinis waiting for you guys, too."

"Make one of 'em dirty, will ya?" Tony asks, hanging up before I can answer.

* * *

"Holy…fucking shit."

I hope I don't look too idiotic standing here in front of Tony's mammoth fucking house, but it's too ridiculous for me not to.

"I get that a lot," Tony answers, punching in a quick forty-seven digit number—actual number is irrelevant—code that gives us access to the inside of his house.

"Jesus, Perry, what the hell is this? Why aren't we here?"

Perry throws me a sideways glance and rolls his eyes. "Hand over the four million you're hiding under your mattress, Harry, and maybe we can get one."

"Hey, fuck you."

"You asked for it, moron."

I can tell that Tony's tempted to slam the door on us before we even manage to get into his house, but out of the kindness of his heart—if you can call that piece of metal sticking out of his chest a heart—or, at least, out of pity for me, lets us enter behind him.

I was expecting some kind of porch set-up. Somewhere where we can unwind a little, take our shoes off—maybe the floors will be heated; can you imagine that? _Heated _fucking _floors_?—before officially entering Tony's humble abode. The usual thing you'd find in a house of this caliber, I thought, but apparently I should start getting used to the weird stuff if I'm gonna be hanging out with Tony Stark.

We're standing in a garage, a garage on steroids. Tony's got at least six cars in here, five of which I've only seen in the form of Hot Wheels. There's a whole see-through fridge dedicated to the best booze in the country, and there's a pretty huge-ass TV surgically attached to one wall. I feel slightly out of place simply because of the fact that there are robot arms hanging from the ceiling, along with different bits of technology that apparently only an MIT grad knows about.

He leads us to a vacant area of floor and stands in the middle of it. "JARVIS," he says simply. Suddenly, the floor dissolves into a shitload of mechanical shit, and Tony's at least five feet above us, creepy little arms removing all of his armor and storing it below ground, I'm guessing. Smart, but at this point, I don't know why the fuck I'd expect anything less. This takes all of two minutes—"It used to take hours when I first built it; _that _sucked," he informs us—and he's back in my clothes, walking toward the stairs leading to the upper level of the house.

"Why the hell do you even _leave _here?" I ask.

"There's no food," Tony answers without missing a beat, leading us through the sea of mechanical, technological waters that is his basement. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't gawk at my genius; it gets old."

"Shit, Mr. Cocky, huh?"

"Call me Mr. Cocky if you don't think this shit is genius."

"Mr. Cocky." It's not me who says this, though; Perry's decided to take part in the conversation, too. I'm not sure if I would've taken the same route in deflating Tony's ego, but hey, he did the dirty work for me, so what do I care?

"Prick," Tony mutters.

"Asshole."

"_Tony!_"

Out of nowhere, a tall, skinny redhead with stems that rival Harmony's—you remember those, right?—comes stumbling down the stairs and runs into Tony's garage.

"Well, I'm glad someone's on the same page as me," Perry says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"Oh my God, I was so _worried!_" she gushes, her words slurring slightly. I wait for her to have her big reunion with Tony and decide to make myself comfortable by leaning against a nearby wall. I'm not sure how long this Hallmark moment is going to last, and I don't feel like waiting too long. It's not that I'm an asshole—you guys know me, I'm not—but I'm cold, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want to get drunk.

Out of nowhere, though, I suddenly feel the pressure of the girl's body hit me full force as she envelopes me in a hug, pressing me flat against the wall.

Oh. Well, uh, that's a little uncalled for.

"I thought you were dead," she says softly. Her eyes are red, and I don't think it's from lack of sleep. It wasn't drugs, either, guys; she was crying. She stares into my eyes, and I don't know what to do except glance at Tony, who's staring at me, his fists clenched at his sides. Perry's got his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh; I can tell. Instead of helping me, all he wants to do is laugh.

"Uh, still here, sweetheart," I stammer, wrapping one arm awkwardly around her and patting her on the back.

I still have no idea who the hell—oh.

"Pepper! Is this Pepper?" I mouth at Tony, pointing over her head.

Tony narrows his eyes and he looks like he's gonna kill me, so I'm guessing that yes, I am indeed being hugged by the one and only Pepper Potts. Now, the only question I have is why she's hugging _me _instead of Tony. I mean, I know I'm devilishly handsome and irresistible to almost everyone I meet, but—

The clothes. The clothes, right.

Pepper giggles. "I was so scared you were hurt. Or dead. I missed you, Tony."

"Want to hear something funny?" I ask.

She pauses and looks up at me.

"Tony missed you, too."

She starts giggling again, but doesn't seem to get the hint. Maybe I'll just…

"I'm not Tony."

She freezes, then looks at me hard, unblinking. Her eyes make a path from my shoes to my eyes, and after a few seconds, she turns to look at Tony.

"Hey, Potts," he says. His voice is surprisingly less upset than I thought it would be, especially considering his facial expressions—never mind, he was probably just pissed at me.

Whatever type of drunk Pepper was just then, she sobers up almost immediately and her cheeks turn as red as her hair…even though her hair is more orange than red, so guess…no. She blushes, okay?

"I-I'm really very sorry," she says, her voice trailing off when she realizes she doesn't have a name for me. "I, um…"

"Pepper, you remember that friend of mine I was talking about on the phone? The one who wasn't Rhodey; the one you had never heard of?" Tony asks, walking over to us and putting his arm across her shoulders.

"Harry," she says slowly, looking back at me. I wave.

"Hi."

"You two, you two look a lot alike," she says, smiling uncertainly. I can tell she's still freaked the fuck out; I mean, I guess I would be, too, if I had just hugged someone I thought was my boss but ended up being a complete stranger.

"I _told _you it would work!" I yelp proudly, my back straightening slightly. "_Told _you."

"She's drunk," Tony insists. When Pepper shoots him an icy glare, he quickly rephrases his last statement to, "Or at least hung over." He turns back to me. "It had nothing to do with your stupid plan."

"Whoa. Hey, hey, hey. Who was _stuck _there for at least another day because of my stupid plan? I don't see him complaining."

Tony shrugs. "Well, then he's an idiot."

"It was a very good idea," Pepper interjects quickly, trying to diffuse any fights before they start. "It fooled me." With that, she turns to me and sticks out her hand. "Harry, I'm Pepper. Nice to officially meet you."

"Hi," I say, grinning, taking her hand and shaking. "Nice to meet you, too, Pepper. I've heard a lot about you."

Pepper blushes again, and Tony's eyes widen. "Oh, really?"

"Only good things, though," I add, catching Tony's warning glance.

"Harry thinks your name is catchy," Tony tells her with a smirk, trying to change the subject.

Pepper turns to me and smiles. Shit, now I'm the one who's turning red. "I'm glad you enjoy it, Mr. Lockhart."

Ooh, Mr. Lockhart.

"C'mon, Pepper, it took you long enough to just call me Perry; don't start with him." Goddamn it, Perry.

"Harry," Pepper rephrases.

"Ha, don't worry about it."

Tony and I make eye contact and I grin. It's completely—or at least a little bit—clear as to why he's so protective over her. I wonder how long it's gonna take for them to start dating. Now _that'd _be cute. Tony holds his arms open and waits, looking expectantly at Pepper.

She smirks. "Is that supposed to mean something to me, Tony?"

"It is, Potts. You gave Harry a hug, thinking he was me."

"So?"

"_So_, why don't you hug the real me?" Tony grins. "C'mon, Pepper. Let's hug it out."

Pepper smiles and eventually wraps her arms around Tony as he does the same to her. And...cue me feeling out of place.

"Hey, Perry, we never got our little reunion," I say, taking a sidestep away from Tony and Pepper, leaving them to do…whatever the hell it is they want to do.

"What?"

"You missed me."

"Stop speaking; why would you think that?"

"Because you wanted to find me." I grin.

"I was doing my job; I get paid to find famous people like Stark. It was just convenient that you were both kidnapped by the same assholes."

"Sure it was."

"Yes."

"You were a wreck without me."

"I was fine."

I shake my head. "If I asked Pepper, she'd say you were like a guy version of herself."

Perry rolls his eyes.

I shrug. "Okay, then." I turn on my heel to face Pepper and Tony. "Hey, Pe—"

I'm cut off suddenly because Perry thinks now is the appropriate time to clamp his hand over my mouth. My eyes narrow and I hope that he can feel my mouth curve up into a smirk behind his hand. It's not every day I get to embarrass Perry Van Shrike, so I'm taking the full opportunity for all it's worth.

Tony and Pepper look over at us; Tony's got this bemused grin on his face and has probably learned not to take us seriously, so he isn't. I turn my attention back to Perry, who begrudgingly holds out his hand.

"It's good to have you back." I take his hand with a satisfied grin, and when we shake, I'm taken slightly aback, because it feels like he actually means it. His handshake's firm, something I'm not used to, at least, not with him.

"Good to be back."

"Now I don't have to hire someone to replace your ass."

"You'd go out of business without me. Everyone knows I'm the charm and class of our organization."

Perry scoffs. "I would've gotten along just fine without you, thanks."

I shrug. "Suit yourself." I pause as I suddenly get a hankering for something. Knowing that the chances are slim but still worth a shot, I halfheartedly glance at Perry. "Got any cigarettes?"

"Outta luck, pal."

"Shit."

"Just get some on the way back."

"We're not working today, are we?"

Perry rolls his eyes again. "Of course not, dipshit. I figured you might want to, oh, I dunno, _sleep _or something? Maybe try to regain your sanity?"

"Too late for that," Tony contributes.

I turn to him. "Thanks," I say, nodding. "Thanks."

"Not a problem."

"Mr. Stark," Pepper says slowly, "I've got a question."

I think it's weird that she's calling him "Mr. Stark." I mean, he's Tony. She just called him that earlier; does she think she needs to sound _professional _in front of Perry and me? Please.

"I have an answer, Ms. Potts."

Oh, now he's doing it, too? They don't hear me calling Perry "Mr. Van Shrike," do they? Fuck, no, not even when we first met; I didn't even call fucking _Dabney _"Mr. Shaw."

"What happened to, uh, your…" It's hard for her to say the word, apparently, but she eventually manages to finish, "captors?"

Tony shrugs. "We called the cops."

"_I _called the cops, sir."

Jesus, it's that fucking robot thing again. What the hell was its name, Jacob? Jonah?

"Thank you, JARVIS," Pepper says, smiling at the ceiling. Ah, JARVIS, the ceiling creeper. Like a bat.

Her attention's back on Tony, now. It doesn't seem to leave him for more than a few minutes. "I'm surprised you didn't kill them."

"I'd probably still get tried for murder or something."

"I'm sure you'd be found innocent."

"It was just easier this way."

Pepper pauses, then looks at her boss once again. "How long do you think it'll take for the press to find out that you're back?"

Right after she says that, the other guy who was standing next to Perry—I think I heard Tony call him Rhodey over the phone—glances up the stairs.

"Judging by all the noise outside, I'd say they have a pretty good idea," he tells us.

Tony grins and looks at Pepper with a shrug he tries to play off as innocent-looking. Ah, I've tried the innocent-looking shrug, Tony; never works. Never has, never will.

"You called them, didn't you?"

Rhodey smacks his forehead lightly with his palm. "Tony, how many times do we have to go through this? You can't just _call _the press; you need _alibis_, _stories_, _excuses_."

"Excuses for what? There were no explosions this time, just arrests. Everyone's pretty much okay, good to go; there's nothing that needs an excuse."

"Why did they want to kidnap you?" Pepper asks.

"Money," Tony and Perry answer simultaneously.

"Why did they want to kidnap Harry, too?" Pepper asks again, and judging by the look on her face, she's pretty confident that she's going to trip the two of them up on this one.

"Because—not to be a cocky bastard or anything, but—I'm the best detective in the Malibu area right now, and Harry's my right-hand man. That's why Rhodey called me instead of anyone else, and they knew he'd call me, because you wanted Tony back, and you wanted the best.

"Honestly, I think it would've been a lot easier if Harry were still in the picture while Tony was missing," Perry admits.

Oh, hey. Shit. Emotional, Per.

"If they got rid of Harry, too, then it'd be even easier to get Tony, and get even more money for him. I'd be too freaked out over Harry missing, so because of that, they would've thrown me off the case of trying to find Tony, because I'd be so wrapped up with finding Harry.

"But, hell, they might not have even wanted you for the money. They could've wanted some of your fuckin' schematics, too; they just might not have gotten that far. Because if the best detective around can't find him, then what're the chances that anyone else will?"

"You should just say that to the press," Tony tells Perry. "They'll eat that up."

"Maybe I will," Perry answers.

Well, I guess that means that we're all in this together. Hell, I thought maybe Perry and I would be stranded down here with the fuckin' robots, but apparently not. That's really good, in my opinion, because I don't _want _to be stuck down here with the fuckin' robots.

"One more question," Pepper adds hastily, "before the tidal wave of them that I'm going to ask you once everything's done with outside." She points at Tony, then at me. "Why'd you guys switch clothes? And Tony, why did you shave?"

Ha, she's still shaken up about that. I probably shouldn't be laughing, though; that means I scared her. Shit.

"It's a long story," Tony answers. He notices that Pepper's opened her mouth to protest, so he adds, "too long to say before we talk to the press. So, uh, wait until later."

Pepper's not especially thrilled about this, but she nods and takes it for what it is.

We're all expecting Tony to lead the way up, but he's not moving. I don't know how long a press party is supposed to take, but all I know is that I don't want to be there too long—like, not more than ten minutes. Press parties really don't sound like a good time, and I don't want to stick around to potentially find out otherwise.

In other words, I want Tony to get his ass up those stairs and get this press conference over with.

Pepper notices that her boss isn't moving, and turns to face him. He looks at her, then glances down at his hand, which is out, waiting for hers to fall into place. She looks back up at him and her cheeks get red again—something of a habit of hers, I guess—and she hesitates.

Oh, come on, Pepper. Take the guy's fucking _hand_. Sure, he can be an egotistical prick, sometimes an asshole, but he's crazy about you, and you're crazy if you can't see that. Fuck, I've only seen the two of you together for five minutes, and _I _already know you _both _are crazy for each other. And who the hell knows when he's gonna throw another sign this big your way? Let's take fucking _advantage _of it, here.

A few seconds later, though, I watch as her hand falls slowly into his and he runs his thumb gently along her knuckles.

"Shall we, Ms. Potts?"

She looks at him and smiles. "We shall, Mr. Stark."


	16. Harry & Pepper

JinxedFairy: i'm glad you liked it! and that you liked the tony/pepper stuff, because i was kinda nervous about whether or not that would come out well. thanks for reading! :)

* * *

"How does this look, Per?" I ask, standing in front of the mirror, trying to make my tie look halfway straight.

"How the fuck does what look?" Perry answers from the bathroom, his eyes still glued to the mirror as he combs his hair.

"This tie; what the hell do you think I'm talking about?"

"It could've been anything, dipshit. If you had been asking me about your hair, I would've said it looked like shit."

Uh, stop. "Fuck you—my hair looks fine."

"You would've changed it if I told you to." Perry smirks.

"Would not." I sigh. "Look, I just want to look good for this, okay? I mean, it's kind of a big deal, don't you think?"

"Sure," Perry answers, "if you think being two out of at least a thousand is a big deal, then yeah, it's a fucking big deal."

"Fuck off," I say, collapsing onto the bed and tying my shoes. I've never been able to wear dress shoes; they look stupid on my feet and I don't think they're comfortable in the slightest.

"It's not that big of a deal; they'll know the reasons why we don't look good, because they know _us_," Perry tells me, trying to sound comforting. He's always sucked at sounding comforting.

"Yeah, but I mean, I dunno. This one just feels different, Perry." I sound like a fucking idiot, trying to put this into words, but I don't know _how _to make it sound non-idiotic, and this is the best I can do. "So, what about this tie? Does it suck?"

"You've never been able to wear a tie, Harry. I don't think I've ever seen you wear a tie in public since the first time I met you."

"Yeah, but this is formal, and I—"

"Just wear a nice shirt or something." Perry glances at his watch, then walks out of the bathroom, looking like Mr. Confident, like he should be on some fucking Axe commercial or something. "We're gonna be late."

"Well, help me! Tie or no tie?"

"I thought I just answered that question."

I hold up a finger. "You didn't answer; you hinted."

"Is there a difference?"

"I used two different words, didn't I?"

"Stop speaking." Perry adjusts his jacket one last time. "We're gonna be late. Drop the tie, finish buttoning your fucking shirt, and let's go."

****

"Do you, Virginia Potts, take Anthony Stark to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"And do you, Anthony Stark, take Virginia Potts to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Sure do."

Pepper looks really pretty in her dress. I like that she doesn't have one of those veil things covering her face—you know what I'm talking about? The one where the groom has to lift the fucking thing up and toss it over her head before he can kiss her? I always thought that thing was distracting as hell, so I'm glad Pepper apparently agrees with me. I'd always pictured Harmony looking like Pepper does today, but without the red hair.

I can't pay attention to whatever the priest's saying; it's the same at every wedding. All I have to do is pop in a tape of my folks' wedding and I can hear it all again. Honestly, I kind of expected Tony's wedding to be a little different, a little more exciting, I guess. With all the Iron Man hype, I figured he'd have something fantastic up his sleeve, but as of right now, there's nothing out of the ordinary about this, except that it's taking place in his backyard, which is a castle in itself.

Perry was wrong, though—not too many people are here. In a way, Perry and I might be the only guests from Tony's side of the family. I'd be a fuckup if I expected his late parents to be there, and as far as I know, there aren't any other (less intelligent) Stark kiddies running around Malibu.

Yet.

I think Pepper's the one behind most of the wedding planning, though. She seems like she'd want one of those fairytale weddings like the one going on right now…but then again, every girl does.

"Mr. Stark, you may now ki—all right, then."

I look up, jerked out of my daydreaming, and am greeted with Tony planting a giant kiss on Pepper without waiting for the priest to finish his line. Everyone around me breaks out into "Oohs" and "Awws," and I probably would, too, but Perry stays silent, opting to clap, instead. So hell, I clap.

****

"You two assholes were the only ones who clapped," Tony tells us, smirking as he holds up a glass of champagne.

"We just started the revolution," I tell him, downing another glass of wine myself. "Everyone else clapped after us."

"How do you know we wanted clapping at our wedding?"

"You did," Perry answers, "you're too much of an attention whore not to."

Tony grins again, but eventually breaks out into laughter. "Didn't take you long to get to know me."

"Not at all. I'm a private detective, after all." Perry grins, taking a bite of his roll. Christ, that guy and rolls; they're all he ever eats.

Pepper walks up behind Tony and smiles at us.

"You look beautiful, Pepper," I tell her.

"Thanks. You two look very handsome. I like the no-tie look, Harry." I throw a sideways glance Perry's way, and he grins smugly.

"So, uh, thanks for coming," Tony falters. I can't tell if he's uncomfortable actually thanking someone, or if he's just a few sips away from being shitfaced, but either way, it's nice. "I'm expecting a fantastic present from you two."

"Don't worry about it," Perry assures him. "You two are gonna love it."

* * *

"Here it is!" Tony's sitting in the middle of an enormous pile of presents—everyone at the wedding was…more than generous, to say the least—and I see his hand pop up, gripping a small box that's still wrapped.

"It's about time you found it," I say, walking over to him. He quickly clears away a pile of presents and pats the now vacant floor next to him.

"This better be good," he says, tearing off the paper in a matter of seconds. I make a mental note to wrap all of his presents in the foreseeable future like this. No bags for Tony Stark's presents; he has too much fun unwrapping.

"I'm sure it's fine."

"We're supposed to _love _it."

"I'm sure we'll love it."

Tony pauses and looks at me. "How sure?"

"Ninety percent."

"Not good enough."

I roll my eyes. "Tony, I know—"

Suddenly, Tony bursts into laughter, his face pointed down into the box. "What the hell," he mutters, a giant grin smeared across his face. "How about that."

"What is it?"

He pauses, then reaches into the box and gently lifts Harry and Perry's present. When he holds it in front of his face, I smile and immediately decide that this is by far the best present we got.

Attached to a small base are two figurines: Iron Man and Wonder Woman. Iron Man's got a little top hat on that looks like it's made of felt and cardboard, and there's also a little tie drawn onto his chest with a Sharpie. Wonder Woman, on the other hand, is sporting a tiny veil and has a piece of white cloth taped around her; the "dress." Across the front of the base is a rectangular bronze plaque with TONY + PEPPER 7/18/08 emblazoned on it.

I feel like I'm gonna cry, but I can't let Tony see that; he'll laugh.

"I'm surprised you're not crying, Pep," he says.

"Why would I be crying?" I ask, maybe a little too defensively, slightly surprised that he caught onto me.

He shrugs. "You're usually Little Miss Sensitive during sentimental stuff like this. Just figured you would, I guess."

I smile at him. "Give me some time; it'll probably happen." He grins and nods.

"Oh, bottom message," he adds quickly, turning the gift upside down and peeking at the bottom. His eyes scan something and he grins again. "Look." He edges closer to me and tilts the bottom my way.

Written across the bottom in two completely different styles of handwriting, is "Best, Perry"—small and neat—and "XOXO! Harry"—big and messy. Right away, I know that Harry and Perry will be back to visit, and I can't wait. They're very miss-able guys.

Tony looks at me and grins. "Can I call you Wonder Woman now?"

"Absolutely not, Iron Man." I smile at him, and he holds out his hand again. Once I take it, he gets to his own feet first, then pulls me to mine.

"C'mon," he says, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "Let's go find a kickass place for this."  


* * *

"You think they liked it?" Harry asks, sprawled across the bed, lying on his stomach. The remote's in one hand, and his chin is supported by the other. He flips absentmindedly through channels, passing all the news stations that are covering the arrests and trials of our—or more accurately, Harry's and Tony's—friends from this whole ordeal, but I can't tell if he's avoiding them on purpose or if he just really doesn't give a shit.

"Yeah," I say slowly, "Yeah, I really think they did."  


* * *

**A/N: so, the last chapter. i'm usually not too good with endings, so i hope this one was okay. thanks for reading, everybody, and for putting up with my horrible updating habits and such! i hope you guys enjoyed it, and again, thank you so much! :) :D**


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